


The Ex Mrs. Hammer

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [39]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: And Now For Something Completely Different, And a lot of people at SHIELD being all gossipy, Darcy was briefly married to Justin Hammer, F/M, It was a mistake okay?, but with a teensy bit of plot, poor Sharon Carter, this is basically pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy Lewis--formerly the fourth Mrs. Justin Hammer--falls into a friends-with -benefits thing with her new coworker. She's not telling anyone about her ex. But it's not like Brock Rumlow should mind. Everyone says Sharon Carter broke his heart.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow, past Darcy Lewis/Justin Hammer
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 452
Kudos: 689





	1. Day One at SHIELD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was in line at the coffee shop in SHIELD’s lobby when she accidentally dropped her tip. “Shit,” she muttered. “Mondays.”

“I got it,” a male voice said behind her. Darcy turned. She was face to face with him. An astonishingly gorgeous man. “Brock Rumlow.” He reached out to shake her hand.

“Uh, hi,” Darcy said. “Hello.” She felt oddly flustered. He smiled. He was one of those guys who _knew_ he was good-looking, she thought.

“You have a name or are you a woman of mystery?” he asked. He was still holding onto her hand. “I know you’re new, I don’t forget faces.” His eyes raked over her.

“Darcy,” she breathed out. “It’s my first day. Darcy H--Lewis. Darcy Lewis.” She didn’t need to mention her divorce.

“Darcy Lewis,” he repeated. She liked the way he said her name, even though she knew it was silly. “First day, huh?” 

* * *

“Ohh, ohhh, God, Brock,” Darcy groaned. She looked down at him. His face was between her legs. Darcy hadn’t planned for their after work drink on Thursday to turn into sex on his couch. They’d only known each other four days. And he’d made sure to tell her that he wasn’t a ‘commitment guy’ at the bar. She wasn’t even sure he remembered her name, but… “Ummpfht,” she shuddered. He was slipping his tongue over her clit in circles. His fingers squeezed her thighs, tilting up her hips for a better angle. “Oh fuck,” she gasped. His tongue was teasing and warm. “Don’t—don’t stop,” Darcy begged when he smirked up at her. “Please,” she said, automatically squeezing her legs together, missing that feeling. He rubbed her thighs.

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart,” Brock said, licking his lips. His mouth was shiny. “You wanna say please again?” he asked teasingly.

“Please,” Darcy said, too turned on to care if she sounded pathetic. Brock looked almost smug. He slid two fingers inside her. “Ohhhhh,” she groaned. She rocked against him and he grinned. “Wha—?” she got out. 

“I think I can do better,” he said, infuriatingly calm. He reached up with his other hand and pushed her shirt over her bra, then tugged down a cup. He leaned forward and captured her nipple in his mouth with a smirk. He sucked on her nipple as his fingers pressed inside her. “Brock,” she said, achingly near orgasm. She repeated his name again and he crooked his fingers in a particular spot. “Ohhhhhh, fuck!” Darcy hissed. She clenched around his fingers. She expected him to stop as she came, but he kept the pressure on until she actually started to keen a little, eyes filling with hot tears. She was tugging at his hair and sputtering nonsense, she realized, when she got control again. “Uh,” Darcy stuttered. He pulled back, raking her nipple with his teeth. Even that little bit of pain was laced with pleasure. She made the world’s saddest, horniest whimper. He grinned. 

“You’re fun,” he said. She was fucked up, Darcy realized, as he rose and unbuckled his pants. She wiped the tears off her face. “You wanna—?” he said, getting a condom.

“Mmm-hhmmm,” Darcy said, leaning forward eagerly. She pulled down his briefs. It was a lot of penis in her face, she thought, oddly giddy, as she put the condom on. It was obvious he enjoyed her touch. She flicked her eyes at him as he rolled his hips forward. She bit her lip. “You’re not going to say please?” she said. He laughed. 

“Please, beautiful,” he said. Darcy braced herself with one hand as she held the base of his shaft with the other, then eased his dick into her mouth slowly. He stroked the back of her head as she sucked him off. “Fuck, baby,” he said, groaning. At least he was gentle, she thought, as he touched her. Not like these guys who wanted you to choke on their dicks. “This feels so goddamn good,” Brock said. She pulled back to lick the underside of his shaft, then swirled her tongue over the tip playfully. She was working as slowly as she could. Then she took him in her mouth again. He groaned, but his touch stayed soft as she moved. “I’m gonna come,” he said, through gritted teeth. She pulled away and coughed a little, wiping at her mouth. She expected him to finish or to ask her for help, but he merely smirked. “Lay back, Darcy Lewis,” he said. That at least established that he knew her name. 

He pushed into her with a sharp thrust and a curse. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last long,” he said. “I need a better angle.”

“Ughhh,” Darcy said, nodding. She would have let him do anything to her in that moment. He pushed one of her legs up and hooked her knee over one shoulder. “Ohh,” Darcy cried, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain as he pounded into her. “God,” she whispered. She wanted him inside her every way all at once, wishing she could blow him while he was inside her like this, too. She did the next best thing, prying at his hand on her breast so she could suck on his index finger. It tasted like her, Darcy realized.

“Uhhh,” he groaned, expression almost pained. “Fuck, you’re killing me—uhhh,” he said, as she sucked harder, arching her back. “Uhhhhh.” He came with a deep grunt and collapsed on top of her. She let go of his hand slowly. They were both quietly grinning at each other. She realized her shirt was bunched up around her neck. She didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t stop smiling. He was breathing heavily. He didn’t move for a second, but then he sat up, smirking. The chain around his neck dangled over her boobs, pendant just touching her chest. “This was fun,” he said. “You want some help with clean up?”

“Uh, yeah,” Darcy said. She thought that was likely a dismissal, even if it was polite of him to offer. It surprised her when he discarded the condom and started dabbing at her thighs with a Kleenex. He grinned and looked up at her.

“What kind of aftercare do you like?” Brock asked.

“Hmm?”

“What do you need after fucking somebody?” he repeated, smiling.

“I don’t, uh—I’m not sure,” Darcy said, feeling oddly shy. She didn’t know what to say. 

“Hungry?” he said. “I’m always starving after I fuck.”

“Uhhhh, sure,” Darcy said, confused. That was how she ended up wrapped in a blanket on his couch, Chinese food in hand, as he channel-surfed. He looked at her. “Hmm?” she said noncommittally. She wasn’t sure what was happening. He must’ve read her expression.

“I don’t date,” Brock said, “but I try to take care of my fuck buddies. I’m not a complete asshole.” He grinned.

“Okay,” Darcy said wryly. There was something hilarious about the whole situation. Weird, but funny. Her first post-divorce fling was with this guy?

She left a little while later. Jane was still awake when she got home, wearing her underwear inside out and feeling a little sex dazed. “You had fun with your new work friend?” Jane said slyly. It was nearly midnight.

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted. She’d told Jane he was attractive and that they were having a drink.

“You’re still single, right?” Jane asked.

“Jane, shut up!” Darcy said.

“Well, I mean, last time--” Jane said.

“I’m never, ever getting married,” Darcy said. Firmly. “I’m divorced. I’m going to stay divorced. Forever.”

“Who is he again?” Jane said.

“One of the STRIKE guys, but I’m not sure we’ll even see each other much,” Darcy said. He’d said something about hanging out with her soon, but Darcy didn’t believe it. “You know how I feel about getting involved with somebody right now.”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “By the way, you’ve got paperwork in the mail.”

“From Justin?” Darcy said, heart sinking. 

“No, your lawyer,” Jane said. “I didn’t open it.” Darcy looked. It was more divorce-related stuff. Darcy’s lawyers thought she should chase her sleazy, but very wealthy ex for more of his hidden assets. They were sending a certified letter to encourage her. No doubt it was about their cut of a settlement re-negotiation. But Darcy--who had drunkenly become Mrs. Hammer after she met him at a Las Vegas science conference and been swayed by mai tais and dancing--had just wanted the two month marriage over. It had been a disaster. Justin lied. Justin cheated. She was pretty sure he was still a criminal, despite his protests, and that he’d probably married her to get his hands on Jane’s tech. Darcy dropped the letter into the shredder. She’d taken no money from Justin. She just wanted him to go away and to pretend it never happened.

Ironically, that seemed to make Justin think she was the love of his life. She was trying to keep their current address hidden, so he wouldn’t be able to start sending her things again. She felt lucky that no one, besides Jane and Thor, knew about the ill-fated marriage. 

  
  


* * *

“Did you hear Carter’s back?” Michonne said to Cam on Friday. “We gotta watch Rumlow.” She grinned. Darcy tried not to look too interested. She was sitting at lunch with Jane and several new people they’d met this week: Cameron Klein from Technical Analysis, Michonne Jones from HR, and Jen Williams from SHIELD’s Archives. They’d already covered Thor and Darcy’s attempts to get Jane to consume a vegetable. People seemed to find them funny. And were eager to tell them all the SHIELD gossip. “We call her Stuck Up Carter,” Michonne said. 

“Michonne,” Cam scolded.

“What? That’s her true name,” she replied.

“Her actual name is Sharon Carter,” Jen whispered. “That blonde by the cafeteria door. She’s Peggy Carter’s great-neice.”

“Ohhh,” Darcy said, glancing up casually. A strikingly pretty blonde was standing near the entrance, talking to Maria Hill. “Peggy Carter’s neice? That’s...neat?” She really wanted to ask what it had to do with Rumlow.

“Oh girl,” Michonne said. “That’s the _least_ interesting thing about her. Well, except for her beige personality. Listen to this. Nobody knew she was a Carter for years. They embed her in Captain America’s building as a nurse--”

“She was part of a secret surveillance team, for Cap’s security,” Cam said.

“One of Fury’s sneaky things,” Jen supplied.

“We know about those,” Jane said grimly.

“We had a neighbor in Oslo,” Darcy said, pulling a face. 

“Darcy was in a minor car accident and our neighbor showed up at the hospital to make sure it wasn’t a murder or kidnapping attempt,” Jane said. “Total privacy invasion.”

“He wasn’t that bad a guy,” Darcy said. “He was just doing his job. I’m sure she’s the same--”

“Did he try to get in your pants?” Michonne asked. Darcy shook her head.

“I like Sharon,” Cam said sheepishly.

“All men say that when there’s blonde hair and a bony size two ass involved,” Michonne cracked. “Y’all wouldn’t be so forgiving if she looked like a bridge troll.” Darcy lost it then, giggling. Cam flushed red. Michonne had obviously hit a soft spot.

“Tell her about Cap,” Jen said. She grinned at Darcy and Jane. “Michonne tells it better.”

“Okay, so Miss Carter is embedded in Cap’s apartment building, pretending to be a nurse, which hello, sneaky, sneaky, his mother was a nurse--”

“Ew,” Jane said.

“I know,” Michonne said. “Apparently, he asked her on a date, but she had a comms in her ear and said no. Then all the HYDRA shit goes down and she gets transferred to Langley.”

“SHIELD lost funding,” Cam said. Darcy nodded.

“And Peggy Carter dies,” Michonne said, “and that’s when everybody finds out sister girl is her neice, _because she gives the eulogy and picks up Cap at the funeral._ ”

“Double ew,” Jane said. Jen nodded.

“People saw them at a hotel that day. Same day! This is during Cap’s on the run thing with that adorable teddy bear and my future husband, Bucky Barnes,” Michonne said. She clasped her hands together and put them over her heart. “I just want to comfort him with my ample bosoms and heal his broken heart, you know? When we finally meet--”

“She only knows him from the news,” Jen said, grinning.

“I have loved him since the Smithsonian exhibit when everybody thought he was dead,” Michonne declared. “Anyhow, everybody finds out that Sharon had a hot and heavy affair with Cap, because she gets demoted back here. Langley actually fired her for helping him and Fury had to do clean up, give her another job. Nobody else gets rescued like that, except her. Major, major nepotism.”

“Not that you could blame her,” Jen said. “Who could say no to Cap?”

“Not me,” Cam said.

“Yes,” Michonne said. She leaned forward. “Only Cap just ghosts. Totally ditches her.”

“It was a dirtbag move,” Jen said.

“He can’t have ghosted, I think they just broke up. He’s not the type,” Cam insisted.

“Cam’s an idealist,” Jen said to Darcy.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, smiling.

“It was probably because she’s bland. All oatmeal, no sugar. Soooo,” Michonne said. “About this time, Rumlow--you see that gorgeous hunk of man glowering in her direction?” Darcy nodded. She’d been trying not to look. He did look unhappy. She’d known he was sitting there, of course. She felt conscious of him whenever they were in the same room. “Uh-huh,” Michonne said, “that’s him. He comes back from his undercover work as Crossbones--” Darcy’s mouth dropped open. She recognized the name of the wanted mercenary and terrorist. Jane said it before she could.

“ _He_ was Crossbones?” Jane asked.

“Helen Cho healed his burns,” Cam said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “We know Helen.”

“Yes,” Jane said. 

“But we remember Crossbones from the news, too,” Darcy ventured carefully. “That’s him?”

“It was another sneaky Fury thing,” Jen said. “Sending him out as a merc to steal back stuff HYDRA smuggled out of SHIELD.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“He’s a legitimate hero,” Cam said, swallowing. He smiled weakly at Darcy. “Even if he did pull a gun on me undercover.”

“What’s it got to do with Sharon?” Jane said. Darcy felt a swell of affection for Jane’s bluntness.

“He’s in love with her,” Jen said. “It’s kinda sad.” Darcy realized Brock’s gaze had flicked to them. Thank God he was all the way across the room.

“He’s looking at us,” Cam said.

“No, wait, he’s looking at Sharon again,” Jen said. “He always looks at her.”

“He chased her _hard_ when he was still burned,” Michonne whispered. “I mean, flowers, romantic trips, presents, the whole enchilada--”

“He used to send her roses just because it was a Tuesday,” Jen said, sighing with obvious envy. “He actually proposed in Paris.”

“Wow,” Darcy said, struggling to envision it.

“They’d already sent out save the date cards when she dumped him,” Jen said.

“It was going to be a real nice wedding, I’m sure Carter loved that,” Michonne said. “You can tell she likes to spend money. And he’s got it.”

“He has money?” Darcy wondered. He hadn’t seemed stuffy or fancy to her.

“He got a lot of reward money as Crossbones, because he stole back HYDRA tech,” Cam said. “Millions, maybe.”

“But they’re not married now?” Darcy said slowly. She really didn’t want to have slept with a married guy, even unknowingly. 

“She dumped him to take a transfer to be the Wakandan liaison,” Michonne said, rolling her eyes. “And we all know why.”

“What’s in Wakanda?” Jane asked. “I’ve heard they had tech--”

“They also have Cap,” Michonne said.

“Allegedly,” Cam said.

“You know she’s not taking Rumlow back because she hopes Cap will get a pardon,” Jen said. “Cap’s famous.”

“And Rumlow was still burned then. She broke that man’s heart,” Michonne said. “And he’s no good anymore. Changed his whole personality, even after Cho made him all pretty again. All cynical. No more romance. He’s got a different girl for every day of the week.” Cam nodded.

“Seriously?” Darcy said, feeling her voice go all croaky.

“At one point, he was sleeping with two women from legal,” Cam said.

“Awkward,” Jen said.

“Uh-huh,” Michonne said. “Miranda was his Monday girl, Lauren was on Tuesdays, what’s her name was on Thursdays--”

“She left,” Jen said. “Got transferred to the Los Angeles field office.”

“There’s an opening for a Thursday girl,” Michonne cracked. “I gotta get in there.” 

“Yeah, but who wants that?” Jen said. “I mean he brags that he’ll never date again, that it’s a waste of time and effort to even be in a relationship.” Darcy swallowed slowly. She tried not to look at Jane. Or Rumlow. “He’s blunt about it!” Jen added. “He doesn’t even take people out on weekends, because he says it gives them the wrong impression.”

“I could never be like that,” Cam said. “How do you not want to go to the movies?”

“We know you’re an adorable, monogamous penguin, baby,” Michonne said, patting his arm. She sighed. Cam blushed.

“You’re not an asshole,” Jen confirmed.

“It’s a damn shame,” Michonne said, shaking her head. “He’s over there, still pining after Sharon when all those girls in legal woulda done anything to make him happy and she’s like watching paint dry.”

“But his behavior isn’t her fault,” Jane said, stubbornly feminist. “He’s a grown man, he makes choices for himself.”

“That’s true,” Darcy said. “If he--if he’s not into commitment, that’s on him.”

“I still can’t believe those women knew about each other,” Jen said in a heated whisper. 

“What?” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah, everybody knew everybody,” Michonne said.

“They worked in the same department and knew he had them on a schedule,” Cam said, raising his eyebrows.

“Can you imagine the departmental meetings?” Jen said. Darcy dared to glance at Rumlow. He was looking away. Suddenly, he turned and looked directly at her. She looked away. She’d sipped her coffee without looking up for twenty seconds when Cam spoke.

“Oh, man, he’s looking over here again. Stop laughing, cut it out,” he whispered, ears pink.

“Cam’s blushing is going to give us away,” Jen said.

  
  
  


Darcy had gone for coffee that afternoon and was taking the elevator with some guys from R&D back upstairs when Rumlow stepped on. “Hey,” he said to the whole elevator. 

“Rumlow,” several voices said. She tried not show a reaction and sipped her drink carefully. They went up a floor. He stood beside her silently. The R&D guys got off on the floor below Jane’s lab. The doors shut.

“I was headed up to see you,” Rumlow said. He pressed the button to stop the elevator between floors.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I was getting coffee.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “You free on Thursday?” he asked. Darcy paused, thinking about it. She definitely had no plans. She’d been hoping they’d hook up sooner, if she was honest with herself. At least before lunch, she thought grimly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be slotted in as the Thursday Girl at SHIELD. She was conflicted. She repressed a sigh. 

“Next Thursday?” she said, making her voice questioning.

“I was thinking of it as a standing thing,” he said, tilting his head. He had a stupidly handsome face. That was irritating. She was irritated by how much she wanted to kiss him. “You and me on Thursdays,” Brock said. “I had fun last night.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, sipping her coffee. She needed to do something with her hands. And her mouth. She looked straight ahead for a moment.

“Doesn’t interest you, huh?” he said.

“I’m not really, uh--” she began. Darcy paused, then flicked her eyes at him. “A once a week person,” she said. “I like a little more attention.” A slow smile bloomed across his face. 

“Yeah?” he said. “I can handle that.” Darcy gave him a look.

“Really?” she said archly.

“Come by tonight,” he said. She didn’t reply immediately. He smirked more widely. “You’re not answering, which means you want to.”

“Oh does it?” Darcy asked, sarcastically. Why did she attract cocky men? She leaned forward and started the elevator again. She didn’t want to admit he was right. 

“My parking access code is 4-4-2-8,” he said

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Just call whenever you feel like it and I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said quietly, as the doors opened. 

“Oh, sure,” Darcy said snarkily. He laughed at her, expression pleased. She got off the elevator, swearing internally. She was sighing when she walked into the lab.

“What’s wrong?” Jane said.

“Nothing, honey,” Darcy said, plopping down. “Here’s your coffee.” She wanted to shout about being Rumlow’s new Thursday girl. But it would be embarrassing to confess to Jane. Jane loved her, Darcy knew, but she didn’t have a frame of reference for normal dating since Thor had fallen out of the sky and revamped Jane’s expectations of romance. She thought anybody should love Darcy as much as Thor loved her. Jane had scolded Ian for not doing enough for Darcy’s birthdays and loathed Justin utterly; she definitely wouldn’t understand if Darcy got entangled in a weird workplace hook up thing long-term. Just then, Sharon Carter walked by the lab’s glass wall, deep in conversation with another SHIELD employee. She was smiling. A few feet from Darcy, Jane hummed off key. Darcy turned back to her laptop and started answering Jane’s emails. “You want to do that conference in September?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jane said absently. It was irritating when your BFF expected the best for you. The best was definitely not on offer, Darcy realized. Not for her. 

* * *

“This is a mistake,” Darcy said to herself, as she punched the numbers into Rumlow’s security gate that night. He lived in one of those new luxury complexes with apartments above stores. They parking for the units was behind a mechanical gate. She hadn’t called yet. She’d told Jane that she had an errand. She was lucky Jane barely noticed things sometimes. But she hadn’t called on the way, so she could still bail. Darcy pulled into a parking space labeled “Guests” and looked at her phone in the cupholder like it was a grenade. “Am I an idiot?” she asked herself out loud. “God, yes,” she answered. “I’m a horny idiot.” She looked around, trying to decide if she wanted to go through with this. Last night, she’d parked on the street, like she was here to go the hair salon on the other side of the building and he’d walked her inside. She hadn’t paid that much attention to her surroundings, not enough to realize the building was chichi. The residents’ entrance--with it’s nice awning and planters--was a few feet to her left. She needed to get out of here, before someone spotted her. She reached for the gearshift, then hesitated. Her hand was directly over the phone. When it rang suddenly, she jumped. “Shit,” she said, putting her hand on her chest. Then she realized it was Rumlow’s number. Be cool, she told herself. Be cool. “Hello?” she said, in what she hoped was an aloof voice.

“I’ll be right down,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Darcy said, voice strangled. How the hell?

“Did you think I don’t have a security alert on the gate?” he said, clearly amused. 

“It doesn’t mean I’m the one who just used your code,” she said, swearing internally. She wanted to smack her steering wheel in frustration.

“Sure it does,” he said, irritatingly smug-sounding again. 

“Because you’re...psychic?” Darcy offered. 

“Maybe,” he said. “Or it could be that I changed it on Tuesday and you’re the only person I’ve given the new code to. Who knows?”

“Oh,” she said, mouthing _damn_. 

“There you are,” he said suddenly, “that is you, right?” His voice was teasing. She realized he was pushing open the glass door at the entrance. “You coming upstairs or do I need to kidnap you?”

“Fine,” Darcy said, hanging up. She got out of the car, locked the doors, then walked towards him. He was grinning. She thought he might be flexing the arm that held the door open. 

“Don’t hide in the parking lot,” he said, smirking, “you’ll hurt my delicate feelings, sweetheart.”

Why did she like men like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *All credit to gingermenace for asking for a "Darcy is Justin's Ex" fic, so I could give her a slice of backstory with this sex scene + workplace awkward I was working on. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea if my rating is rate-y enough. Someone tell me if they ever think I should boost something to Explicit, yeah?


	2. Always on My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey,” Brock said, as she walked into the lobby. She expected him to lead her upstairs. Darcy was surprised when he pulled her closer instead. “C’mere,” he said, reaching for her forearms. Her treasonous body sort of melted against him. He was a wall of sturdy, warm muscle. He smirked as he kissed her and guided her over to the nearest wall. 

“Mmm,” she said involuntarily. Heat was pooling between her legs. She hated that he was such a great kisser, sucking on her top lip gently. His hands slid under her shirt, squeezing her flesh with rough, strong fingers. _Oh God,_ Darcy thought, _I’m enjoying this too much._ They were in a public lobby, groping each other like teenagers. She should pull away, she thought. Not be such an easy mark. She managed to turn her head and dodge another kiss. He got the side of her face. “Brock,” she said, leaning against the wall. 

“You ever have sex in unusual places?” he asked, dragging his hands to her hips slowly. He glanced behind them, looking out the glass door speculatively.

“What?” Darcy said. He was positively gloating. “I’m not having sex out there in the bushes with you,” she said.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, smirking. “I had another idea.” He tipped up her chin to face him. She couldn’t look away. Or step back, not that she wanted to. She was distracted by his tongue in her mouth when he moved again, easing his hand down the front of her leggings. She jolted in surprise and he chuckled.

“Brock,” she said, feeling a little breathless. “There are cameras.” There had to be, right? She looked. There was one directly above them.

“Shhh,” he said. “We’re in a blindspot.” He moved so she was pinned more closely against the the wall and anchored his hand at the apex of her thighs.

“Jesus--what are you thinking?” Darcy said, before he cut off her words with another kiss. 

“You wanna stop?” he said, breaking away for a moment. Darcy shook her head. She didn’t want to admit she was excited by the risk. It was thrilling to fool around like this. He grinned.

“Didn’t think so,” he said. 

“Uhh,” she got out, as he touched her. Darcy rocked her hips against his hand. It felt incredible, even if her heart was racing. Would someone walk by and see them?

“That feel good?” he asked.

“So good,” she whispered. Darcy pressed her face against his shoulder, trying to be quiet. She felt him kiss her earlobe, then slide his tongue into her ear. “Oh, God,” she moaned. The sensation pushed her over the edge. She was actually shaking when she came. “Help me,” she begged, when her legs started to go weak. She was going to slide down the wall. Her fingers gripped his shirt. 

“I gotcha,” he said. He kissed her temple gently, his stubble scratching her skin. It took her a moment to realize he was actually holding her up with his other arm. “You okay?” he said. His expression was wry. Darcy nodded. 

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. They looked at each other. She felt dazed and stupid, as he leaned in to nuzzle her. He was rubbing her lower belly now. It would have been soothing, if she wasn’t so wrecked already.

“Let’s go upstairs, get you out of these--” he began. She froze when she thought she heard a noise. It sounded like the elevator. 

“Shit,” Darcy said, panicking.

“Be cool,” he said, grinning and pulling his hand out of her pants. Darcy tried to make her expression neutral. An elderly couple with a tiny white poodle were leaving the building. 

“Oh, what a cute puppy,” Darcy said weakly, pretending to be just walking in with Brock. She could just be hanging onto him because she did that, right?

“Hello,” the older man said. 

“Mr and Mrs. Winstead,” Brock said in an almost chipper voice. “Let me get that door for you.” He left Darcy standing by the wall. 

“Thank you,” Mrs. Winstead said, smiling, as he held it open for them. 

“You be careful out there,” Brock said. The door had shut and they were walking down the sidewalk when he turned and grinned at Darcy. “Cute, right? They’ve been together for forty-six years,” he said. “Don’t usually walk Snowball this late.” He looked amused. 

“Yes, it was very polite of you not to open the door for them with your pussy hand,” Darcy said, giggling a little from repressed nerves. He smirked and then advanced on her with that hand held up. “Don’t you dare,” Darcy said, backing up until she got into the elevator. 

“I thought you liked that,” Brock said teasingly. 

“Just let me hit the damn button,” Darcy said, blushing.

“Third floor,” he reminded her. “C’mere.”

“Yes, Commander,” Darcy said. She saw his eyes light up. It confirmed a suspicion she’d had after googling the word _aftercare._ Darcy stepped into his arms obediently. 

* * *

  
He did have a little bit of an instruction kink, she discovered, as they kissed on his couch. But he wasn’t obnoxious or creepy about it. She’d shed her clothes between the door and the living room and was lifting his shirt over his head when she dared to ask him. “What do you want?” Darcy said, kissing him. “Tell me what you want?” He looked at her intensely.

“You wanna do something for me?” Brock asked. She nodded, kissing him. “Get on your hands and knees for me, baby,” he said. When she complied, she could tell from his tone that he was smiling. “Good girl,” he said, rubbing her ass. She heard him unzip his pants and discard them on the floor. After a long moment when she was absolutely still as he removed his clothes, he spoke again. “I’ll be back.” 

“Okay,” she said lightly. It was achingly difficult to wait without looking to see what he was doing, but she guessed he wanted it to be a surprise. Her entire body felt alive with nerves as she kept her eyes on the fabric of his sofa. He came back and she heard his weight settle on the couch behind her. Darcy swallowed nervously. The anticipation was almost painful. When she stole a glance backwards, he was putting on the condom. She looked ahead quickly, hoping he hadn’t caught her. Her entire body was tingling. Something touched her back and then she realized he was holding her scarf, dragging it across her back and then looping it around her head. “Ohhh,” she whispered, as he covered her eyes. He pulled the knot around the back of her head and tied it, then raked his fingers through her hair. Her scarf made everything in front of her veiled in purple, but heightened her sense of surprise with each touch. She shivered a little and heard him chuckle. 

“You ready, baby?” he asked, stroking her legs and adjusting her thighs wider. 

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, automatically leaning towards the sound of his voice. 

“So sweet for me,” he said, kissing her back. He eased into her with tantalizing slowness. Darcy had expected him to be rough, but he was startingly gentle. He murmured encouragements. “So beautiful,” he said in a raspy voice. 

“Uhhhhh,” Darcy moaned, trying not to be too flattered when he called her beautiful. This slow, careful intimacy was killing her--it was too much vulnerability and not enough at once. “More, please,” she begged. “Please.” She felt him dig his fingers into her hips before he started to move furiously. “Oh God,” she repeated, as her body rocked with his movements. She felt herself clench around him. It was dizzying. Her legs were shaking when she felt him come, too, grunting and collapsing on top of her. She sunk down under his weight, breathing heavily, still unseeing. She didn’t want to move. At all. Could she just lie there forever, underneath his body, she wondered? The sofa was cool against her skin. He moved first. “Uhhh,” Darcy said, wordlessly complaining when their bodies separated. He chuckled.

“Are you sad, baby?”

“Yes,” Darcy sighed out. She wanted to enjoy the post-sex haze. She heard him putting clothes on and made a pouting, disgruntled noise. He laughed then. Suddenly, she felt him dot kisses along her back. They were feather-soft, gentle kisses. “Mmmm,” she said, as he stroked her hair. Darcy felt him untie the knot slowly, then move the scarf away from her eyes.

“You want some wine?” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

“I shouldn’t,” Darcy said, opening her eyes with regret. “I have to drive. Checkpoints.”

“Stay the night,” Brock said, standing up. He reached for the blanket on the back of the nearby armchair and draped it over her. “I’ll get you a glass.” He grinned. “We need to have the talk, anyway.”

“The talk?” Darcy said, frowning. She pushed herself up slowly, wrapping the blanket around her body. He’d walked into the kitchen and was getting out glasses.

“You keep distracting me,” he said, sounding amused. “You like rosé?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, surprised. He drank pink wine? She watched as he moved back over. He’d put on his boxers and a t-shirt, but his feet were bare. Brock passed her a glass, then sat down next to her with a sigh.

“This is the less fun part of the night. I’m a shitty boyfriend,” he said, “so, I don’t date. I only see people who are okay if we keep things pretty casual. I usually tell people this before I fuck them, but you, uh--” he said, pausing. He smiled at her, making eye contact and scrunching his nose in a charming way. “You’re too much my type.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, grinning. Complete flattery, she thought, and also nonsense, given what everyone said about him and Sharon. He’d been the perfect boyfriend to a size-two blonde with an impressive SHIELD pedigree. Still, she was amused by how he handled it. He’d managed to make it sound like a compliment to her! “I’m sorry,” Darcy said slyly. “I’ll try to rein in my irresistible qualities.”

“You’re not upset?” he said, looking surprised.

“Nope,” she said, sipping her wine and adjusting the blanket.

“I mean it,” he said, expression turning worried. “Women--nice women, good women--they try to change me sometimes and get their feelings hurt. I don’t want you to--”

“Brock,” Darcy said seriously. “Your reputation precedes you, all right? I know.”

“You know?” he said.

“I’ve been at SHIELD a week. I know things. Fury likes complicated shenanigans, the archivists are wizards, and you’re hot, but a hound dog.”

“Oh. Shit,” he said.

“They talk about you like you’re the un-getable guy, the white whale, the George Clooney of STRIKE--” she said.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Was it really two women in legal at the same time?” Darcy asked, insanely curious.

“No,” he said.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” she said, laughing. He glanced at her, then turned sheepish.

“They were, uh, consecutive,” Brock said. “But there was a gap. In between.”

“Was it longer than a week?” Darcy asked.

“You’re a little wiseass,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Jesus Christ. What have I done to myself?” He shook his head as Darcy laughed. “You’re really not bothered?” he asked. She smiled.

“Nope.”

“All right,” he said. He sipped his wine. She decided this was the moment. He didn’t need to know everything, but she wanted him to know this.

“I don’t mind being casual, but I’d like you not to share with people at work that we’re sleeping together, even in a low key way. I’ve got an ex who likes drama and he works in a field where he can keep tabs on me and Jane,” she explained carefully. “I’m trying to keep him from even knowing we’re at SHIELD, much less that I’m not sitting at home, you know?”

“Sure,” Brock said. “No problem.”

“It’s probably best if people don’t even know we’re friends,” Darcy added. “I have no idea what might make him want to show up in the lobby.”

“Just how bad is this guy?” Brock asked, grinning.

“Awful,” Darcy said. She started to laugh. “When we broke up, he hired a mariachi band to accompany him so he could try to serenade me back outside Jane’s and my apartment.”

“Fuck,” Brock said. “Really?”

“The worst part is”---Darcy tried to repress her giggles so she could talk-- “is that it was a really great cover of _Always on My Mind._ Very creative and stuff.”

“A mariachi cover of an Elvis song?” Brock said.

“We met in Vegas at a science thing,” Darcy said with a sigh. “And he knows I love Elvis.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. He looked at her. “Did he get one of those fucking jumpsuits?” he said, cracking up.

“No,” Darcy said, snorting. She waited until he took a sip of his wine. “He wore one of those big sombreros with the bedazzling.” Brock almost choked. “So, I’m good with casual. Really good.” 

“No fucking kidding,” he said.

She was on her third glass of wine and they’d moved to his bedroom when he tried to talk her into sitting on his face. “C’mon,” he said coaxingly, “you can do this, baby.” 

“I should have stretched for this,” she told him, grinning. She’d had enough wine that she had no filter anymore. She clamored over his stomach awkwardly. “And I’m really, really drunk,” she said. “If I break your nose, it’s all on you.” She sloshed a little wine on his chest. “Whoops,” she said. 

“How are you this drunk on three glasses of wine?” he said, laughing. Darcy made a face and thought about it.

“Either I’m still sex-brained or I’m just a real lightweight, it’s a mystery,” she cracked. “God, you look _great_ naked. Like stupid great.” She gazed at him, filled with drunk girl reverence. He was awe-inspiringly muscular.

“You okay?” he said. He caressed her thigh. 

“It’s a real shame that sex tapes are problematic in this job market, because I so would,” she confessed. He burst out laughing. She was still giggling when he took the wine out of her hand and gave her a smoldering look. “Oh,” Darcy said. 

“Lemme take care of you,” he said.

“Okay,” she whispered. 

When she woke up in his bed, it was five-thirty in the morning and he was still asleep. Darcy got dressed, kissed his cheek, and snuck out. She figured he wouldn’t mind if she only left a Post-It telling him to call whenever. The sun rose as she drove home. Jane was still asleep when she got into the apartment. Darcy tried to be quiet as she showered and climbed into her own bed, blissed out and happily single. She was going to sleep all afternoon, she thought. She always slept better after sex. And this might be the best of both words.   
  


* * *

“Darcy.” There was an earthquake happening, she registered dimly. She was being shaken--oh no, wait. She knew those skinny, pokey fingers. 

“No, Jane.”

“Darcy!” Jane repeated.

“What is it?” she grumbled. “No brunch--”

“It’s Justin!” Jane hissed.

“Shit,” Darcy said. She blinked and sat up slowly. Jane was alarmed, she could tell, even before she put on her glasses. She’d thought if she didn’t actually say his name in front of Brock, she wouldn’t summon him. But he was like Jack Nicholson in that witch movie, he just appeared at the worst moments because you talked around him. “What’d he do?” she asked.

“SHIELD called,” Jane said slowly. “He’s sent you something at the office.”

“He knows we’re at SHIELD? Fuck,” Darcy said.

“Yes,” Jane said. “And they’ve made it clear you--we need to get down there and pick it up.”

“It?” Darcy said.

“They won’t tell me what it is, but it’s definitely something abnormal,” Jane said. “I’m worried. I called Maria Hill.” Maria knew about Darcy’s divorce. “What if it’s a threat?”

“Ughhhh,” Darcy said. “If it’s something creepy, like a skeleton or a Jared Leto acting technique, why do I have to see it?” 

“You need to be prepared, if he’s turned violent,” Jane said. “You know I think he’s mentally unhinged--”

“Okay, fine,” Darcy said. She was too sleepy for one of Jane’s extensive amateur psychoanalyses of Justin’s various narcissistic personality disorders. She climbed out of bed, swearing quietly.

“I’ll make coffee,” Jane said.

“No, we’ll get drive-thru!” Darcy said to her retreating back. “I deserve consolation.” She got dressed and they drove into work, stopping only for coffee.

  
  


“They said it was being held in Loading Bay C,” Jane said nervously as they parked near the bays. She was chewing her lip. “What if it’s a weapon? Didn’t you tell me he named a torpedo after you?”

“He named it after my boobs,” Darcy said. They got out of the car and walked around. She realized there was a small crowd gathered in front of their bay. People had formed a semi-circle. “Oh, shit,” she said. “What are all these people doing here? It’s Saturday.” 

“It’s definitely a bomb,” Jane said.

“It’s not a bomb,” Darcy said. “They’d have a robot diffusing it. They’re SHIELD, they have th--those.” She’d stuttered because she realized that part of STRIKE Alpha was standing there. The Brock part. He was talking to that tall, angry-faced Australian dude. Jeff? No, Jack. Brock had mentioned that they sometimes trained on Saturdays. “I have the worst luck,” she muttered.

“What?” Jane said.

“Nothing,” Darcy said. They’d gotten to the semi-circle. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” The crowd parted. They were all looking at her. She felt conscious of Brock’s presence.

“Darcy, be careful!” Jane said, as Darcy tried to acclimate to the dark of the bay chamber. It had been sunny outside. She stopped, blinking, as her eyes adjusted. Someone was standing there. Maria Hill. She’d just straightened up. She’d been peering at a crate on a table.

“Hello,” Maria said coolly. 

“Hi, Sorry,” Darcy said. “Is that--that’s it?” She hesitated.

“Yes,” Maria said.

“Is it venomous?” Jane said, from somewhere behind her. The crate was marked _Live Animal._

“No,” Maria said, smiling. Darcy moved closer and then leaned down. The crate was full of shredded white and black paper, she thought. At least until the pile moved and a pair of small blue eyes blinked at her. 

“Oh. My. God,” Darcy said suddenly. The striped cub meowed piteously. 

“Holy shit,” Jane said. “Justin bought you a baby _tiger?”_

“People were wondering if they could pet it,” Maria said.

* * *

“I’m waiting for this Congressional shindig to start, baby. Why don’t you throw on a dress, meet me here? We’ll make it a date night?” her ex said. “You still have that red dress? That was a good dress--” He was adjusting his tie on her phone screen.

“Justin!” Darcy barked into the phone. “You need to come get him and take him back.” She was pacing the concrete floor, trying to keep her distance from everyone. Jane and the other SHIELD employees had been passing the tiger around as she got him on the video call. Justin was obsessed with video calls--he would refuse to answer regular calls. Which made everything more awkward. 

“Why?” Justin said. 

“I don’t want a tiger, I live in an apartment!” Darcy said. He was visibly pouting in her screen now. 

“You love tigers, baby.”

“I do not love tigers--” she began. 

“Honeybun,” he said. “He’s your tiger. You belong together. We’ll figure something out. Get him a little enclosure, do it up right. I’ll get, uh”--he twirled his fingers--”get in a zoologist, something like that. You’ll see. Listen to Daddy, baby.”

“Do not say those words to me,” Darcy hissed, internally cringing.

“Let’s circle back to that and talk about this apartment thing,” Justin said. “I don’t like you living in an apartment. It’s not safe. Why don’t you let me buy you a nice place in Georgetown, huh? Two, three stories, a guest house for Jane and Thor? Get something colonial, do it up nice. Plenty of room for us and little Elvis--I think that’s a good name, don’t you? Maybe it’s a little derivative--”

“No,” Darcy said firmly.

“Yeah, but who remembers the alligator on _Miami Vice_ now?” Justin said.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Darcy said, trying not to have a stroke right there on the concrete.

“Honeybun, I listen to everything you have to say,” Justin said. “Talk to me. Talk to Daddy.”

“There is no us,” Darcy said. “We’re divorced. Do you understand--?” He was making tsk-tsk noises.

“About that, Honeybun. Did you get the letter from your lawyers?”

“What?” Darcy said. 

“There was an error, baby. I mean, it’s not entirely surprising. They weren’t the best caliber. I really wanted you to go with Davidson & Merchant. They did my second divorce, everything went perfectly, so clean--” Justin was saying.

“What error?” Darcy said slowly. She felt like the floor was tilting. She sat down carefully on a crate. 

“Personally, I think this is a sign,” he said. “You know those posters? _If you’re looking for a sign this is it?_ You can’t get a clearer sign than this, baby.” He touched his chest. “Me.” Then he held his hand out. “You. Still together. It feels right. Doesn’t it feel right to you?”

“Justin,” she said. “What is going on?”

“Well, uh, the thing is, we’re still married,” he said. He smiled. “Isn’t that great news?”  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs a mariachi-ish Spanish cover of "Always on My Mind" today? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGYNpWocdeY


	3. After You Get What You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“No, no, no,” Darcy said, blinking. “That cannot be--no. Justin, no.” She stared down at her phone screen in horror. He was irritatingly calm. 

“Darcy, baby,” Justin said. “This is good news. Why don’t we go to the Maldives, huh? Get a villa, do a little swimming, have some champagne? I love champagne, you love champagne,” he said, pointing like he’d just had a gotcha moment. “That’ll help you relax. You look tense.”

“Who is going to watch the white tiger, Justin?” Darcy hissed.

“We’ll take him with us, he’s probably a local--”

“I am not animal smuggling with you in Asia,” Darcy said. “I’d probably end up in prison.”

“Rich people’s prison is different, Honeybun. It’s not a big deal. I made friends I have to this day. You remember Bernie--”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, shoulders sagging. “I’m not rich, Justin!”

“Sure you are, my money is your money,” he said. Then he snapped his fingers. “Hey, I’ve got an idea! Bernie could watch the tiger,” Justin said. “He’s great with everything but insider trading. Totally reliable. Great with tigers.”

“You know I don’t want your money,” she said sternly, ignoring his tangent.

“Not even just a little bit?” he said said pouting. “You don’t want some fun money? What about a nice little winery in Napa?”

“No.” Darcy glared into the phone. He grinned at her.

“You know what, I think it’s kinda sweet that you love me for me. What other guy like me could say that? Tony Stark? No fucking way. You think Pepper Potts or all those supermodels would look at him twice if he didn’t have his daddy’s money--” 

“Justin, please just be quiet,” she said, frustrated.

“I‘m working towards a larger point here, Honeybun,” he said. “I feel like this is the keystone to our relationship success--” Darcy rolled her head back and shrieked like Tarzan.

“Ahhhahhhh,” she said. Justin was still talking.

“You don’t want to talk about our relationship?” he said.

“We’re divorced!” Darcy said.

“Not technically,” he said, over her irate huffs. “Honeybun, calm down. We’ll just table that for the honeymoon. What about Jane? She likes pets, right? Janey, where are you?” he called out. “Put Jane on the phone, baby. Jane always liked us together.” Darcy realized Jane had heard him and was marching their way, face scowling.

“What’s going on?” she said. Darcy passed her the phone wordlessly and then rocked back and forth. She didn’t care who could see her. This was a nightmare. A complete nightmare. 

“Janey!” Justin yelled. “You look fantastic. We need you to pet-sit Elvis. You can do that, right? What’s my wife doing? It sounds like she’s in lamaze class--”

“She’s not your wife, you nitwit,” Jane snapped.

“Now, I know you’re mad at me, but that was uncalled for,” Justin said. “And inaccurate. That’s my beautiful, perfect wife.”

“Please,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“We’re still married,” Darcy croaked. 

“What?” Jane said, jaw dropping. Darcy nodded and went back to rocking and breathing.

“There was a tiny, tiny error in the divorce paperwork, we’ve decided it’s a sign,” Justin said blithely. “You know _The Secret,_ right?”

“Oh no,” Jane said. 

“It’s a great book, fantastic. I’ll send you a copy,” Justin said. “I’m trying to get her to agree to a real honeymoon. Tell her the Maldives are fantastic. I’ll get a villa. Honeybun, you’ll love them. I’m getting Lloyd”--Lloyd was Justin’s long-suffering personal assistant--”to call my pilot. He’ll get it all worked out. This time Monday, we could be in paradise.”

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Jane said.

“You can’t separate a man and his wife, Janey. Darcy and I belong together. It’s kismet--” Justin was saying, when Jane stabbed the end call button with her finger.

“I hung up,” she said. She looked at Darcy. “We’ll get a restraining order or something.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to divorce him _twice,”_ Darcy said. She stood up and starting walking around again. Maria Hill met them. The employees looked over curiously as Darcy apologized for the weirdness.

“About that,” Maria Hill said. “Fury wants to see you upstairs. Regarding this...situation.”

“Wonderful,” Darcy said. She moved over to the group of SHIELD employees, deliberately avoiding looking directly at Brock. She felt queasy. “Could someone watch the tiger until I get back?” she asked.

“We’ll watch ‘im, darl,” the Australian STRIKE guy said. He was petting the tiger like it was a house cat. Brock was standing next to him.

“Thank you...Jack,” Darcy said tentatively. She hoped she got his name right.

“No worries,” he said, giving her a terrifyingly feral smile. 

“He’ll be fine,” Brock said, expression unreadable.

* * *

“I’m afraid we have a complex situation, Dr. Foster, Mrs. Hammer,” Nick Fury said. He was gazing out the window. Maria had ushered Darcy and Jane into the director’s office. 

“She’s not Mrs. Hammer--” Jane began.

“She is still legally married to world’s second-largest military-grade weapons contractor,” Fury said. “Which presents SHIELD with certain opportunities.”

“What are you saying?” Darcy said dimly. Fury turned. She wasn’t understanding him.

“I need you to stay married,” Fury said. “Just for the next several weeks.”

“Oh no,” Jane said. “No.”

“We’re currently running an operation on Hammer Industries. We’re concerned that Hammer may be secretly selling tech to HYDRA cells,” Maria said quietly. Darcy’s heart sank. She looked at Maria. Maria’s expression was serious. Darcy knew Maria wasn’t lying to her; Fury might have a flair for drama and big coats, but Maria Hill was a solid woman. She was probably the person who did the majority of the day-to-day to keep SHIELD running, Darcy thought. 

“He probably is,” Darcy said. She looked at Fury. “And what do want me to do?”

“Help us bug his house, see if he’ll confide in you,” Fury said smoothly. He looked at her expectantly. “Are you willing to work with us?”

“I’m going to have to pretend I want to reconcile with him?” Darcy said, thinking it through. “Oh, God,” she sighed out.

“We’ve got a primary team working with Hammer,” Fury said. “You’ll have your own secondary team with Romanoff and Carter.”

“They’ll help wire you for recordings and give you assistance however they can,” Maria said. Darcy sighed. 

“Weeks, huh?” 

“It won’t be too long,” Maria said. “We’ll take steps to ensure your safety. Sharon Carter has already agreed to go undercover with you as a personal assistant, if you feel comfortable living with Hammer.” Darcy looked at her incredulously.

“Sharon Carter?” she said.

“That’s me,” a voice said. Sharon Carter had stepped into the office. She smiled at Darcy.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Give me a second to process. I need to think.”

“Darcy--” Jane began.

“HYDRA cells, Janey,” Darcy said.

“Which is not your fault,” Jane said sharply. She gave Fury a look. “She didn’t let SHIELD be infiltrated.”

“But I don’t think Justin would personally hurt me,” Darcy said. 

“No?” Sharon said.

“He hires other people to empty his trash,” Darcy said. “It would be a hired person.” She sighed again. “He’ll definitely want sex, though.” Jane huffed.

“If that’s a problem--” Sharon began, sounding oddly tactful to Darcy.

“No,” Darcy said. “When we were married, it was all the sex he was having with other people that bothered me.” Darcy looked at Fury. “If I’m going to pretend to be married again, SHIELD can pay for my next divorce. Put everything in a contract and send it to me.”

“I’ll make sure they’re very good lawyers,” Fury said.

“How are you going to do that?” Jane said. She was evidently pissed.

“I’ll get a recommendation from Stark,” he told her. Jane relaxed fractionally.

“It’s not a bad idea,” she admitted begrudgingly. “Tony hates Justin.”

“She hates Justin, too,” Darcy said. “They formed a little club. When do you want me to start?”

“Tomorrow, if possible? We have a pre-existing meet,” Sharon said, again using a tactful voice. Darcy wondered if she’d still use that voice if she found out that Darcy had been sleeping with her ex-fiancé?

“Okay,” Darcy said. She got out of her phone.

“You’re calling now?” Maria said. Darcy nodded and found his number in her recent calls. She dared to try a regular call. She could tell how invested he was if he actually answered. It rang once and she scrunched her face. _Pick up,_ she thought, _pick up._ He answered on the second ring.

“Miss me already?” he said. “I miss you, too--”

“Justin, we need to talk about the divorce,” Darcy said, trying to sound urgent.

“Okay, yeah,” he said slowly. “We can talk, Honeybun. Let’s talk.”

“Can you meet me for--” Darcy looked up. Sharon held up a notepad. _Dinner at 8 tomorrow?_ “Dinner?” Darcy said. “At eight, eight-thirty, tomorrow?”

“Eight? I, uh, have a business meeting,” he said, switching to what Darcy thought of as his flaky husband voice. She rolled her eyes. She recognized this voice from when she’d caught him sleeping with an aide to the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. She made her voice irritated.

“You’re dicking me around right now?” Darcy said. “I cannot believe you. You’re already cheating! The minute I even call you--”

“Baby, I swear,” he said. “There’s no other women. This is purely business. A business thing.”

“If it’s a business thing, why can’t you bring your wife?” Darcy pointed out. She waited a beat as Justin stuttered. 

“I can bring my wife,” he said, sounding nervous. “Okay. Okay.”

“Good,” Darcy said quietly. 

“I don’t know about you being around this crowd, baby--”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said sharply. “Is it a crowd of women whose underwear I’m going to find--”

“No, no,” Justin said. “It’s a date, a real date.”

“We’re just going to talk,” Darcy said. “This is a talking date.”

“C’mon, baby, it’s us,” he said slyly. Darcy sighed. “I hear you thinking about it!” Justin said, voice delighted. “You know you miss Daddy. You miss me.”

“We need to find a good place for the tiger,” she said.

“You don’t want to keep him?” Justin said, sounding pouty.

“He probably needs his mother,” Darcy said. When she hung up, she looked at Fury. “All my divorce costs,” she reminded him. He nodded. “Okay,” Darcy said. She stood up. “Let’s go.” She looked at Sharon and Jane as they left the office. “I need to psych myself up for this. Also, he likes it when I look like a pale Kardashian, so I need to find a dress that’s impossible to sit in.”

“That’s very...definite,” Sharon said. “I wonder if we could fit a wire in something like that?”

“You should see how he dresses,” Jane said, as they walked down the hall.

“Natasha is probably better at this stuff than me,” Sharon confessed. “I’m not very good at clothes. I just own a bunch of pantsuits.” She grinned. “I’m more Hillary meme than Black Widow.” 

“Same,” Jane said. Darcy nodded politely. 

“She got me into plaid,” Darcy said. They found Natasha downstairs. 

“We need help with Darcy’s wardrobe,” Sharon said. 

“You’ve agreed to do it?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Natasha looked at her curiously.

“I don’t like it,” Jane said.

  
  


After they made plans to meet later to get Darcy’s wardrobe together, she and Jane went down to the loading bay to retrieve the tiger. Darcy found Jack bottle-feeding him. “Thank you,” she said, sighing. 

“No problem,” Jack said, smiling gently. “If you need someone to watch ‘im, anytime--” he offered.

“Well,” Darcy said jokingly. “If my first plan doesn’t work, would you like a pet tiger?” Justin had texted to say someone would pick him up at her apartment sometime this week. Darcy had insisted he go somewhere nice--and humane. She wasn’t going to let him go if the person Justin sent looked sketchy. Jack grinned at her, his entire face lighting up.

“Can’t say it wouldn’t be fun,” he said. He held up the tiger. “You’re a cute little bug, aren’t you?” The cub meowed at him. He handed him to Darcy with a sigh. Jane cooed over the tiger.

“Did you want to keep him for a few days?” Darcy offered gently.

“I couldn’t,” Jack said, “keep ‘im away from you ladies.” His voice was wistful.

“Drop by the apartment,” Jane said, evidently impressed by his bottle-feeding. “Thor’s coming home today. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” She smiled warmly. Darcy was a little surprised. She was even more surprised when Jane gave him their address. His last name was Rollins, he told her. He even carried the tiger to the car in it’s crate. “He’s _really_ nice, Darce,” Jane said.

“Yup,” Darcy said, wondering what Brock would say about Justin. She sighed.

“And so good looking,” Jane said, looking at Jack as he jogged to the building. Darcy laughed. Since when did Jane notice stuff like that?

* * *

“I should have called first, I know,” Darcy said, sitting in her car near Brock’s building. She’d pretended like she was driving by the ground level stores around the corner from his apartment building. She’d wanted to make sure no one was following her. At one point, Justin had had her followed. This time, she seemed to be in the clear. But still. She shifted the phone against her ear and waited for him to speak. 

“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t sound happy to hear from her.

“You’ve got someone there--” she began, feeling a pang of envy mixed with sadness. He spoke at the same time.

“No,” he said firmly. “But we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a bad idea.”

“What’s changed?” Darcy said softly. She ached to see him.

“You’re married to Justin Hammer,” Brock said.

“For a little while longer, yeah,” Darcy admitted. “I’m a bad idea machine, apparently.” There was a pause. “I’ll just go--,” she said, intending to say _go home_ when he chuckled. 

“Anybody follow you?” he said.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I did check.”

“Meet me at the door.”

“Okay,” she said. She made sure to behave normally as she walked in, still cautious of being seen, but Darcy practically fell into his arms once the elevator doors closed. That seemed to startle Brock. He’d gone still as she kissed his neck and jaw. Darcy paused and looked up at him. “This might be the last time we can see each other for...awhile,” she said. He was gazing down at her, expression unreadable, through his dark lashes. Those brown eyes studied her carefully. She realized there were little flecks of green in his irises. A tiny scar on his cheekbone. “What is it?” she whispered, as the doors opened again. Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her into the apartment.

“Do you trust me?” he asked as they stood in the foyer.

“Yeah,” she said. 

“C’mere,” he said, leading her to his bedroom. “Take your clothes off,” he told her, going into the bedroom closet. She was unbuttoning her shirt when he emerged with something in his arms. Pillows and soft bolts of fabric; silk, she realized. She watched, nervous, as he put them on the bed. 

“What are we doing?” she said, as he steered her to the edge of the bed, then helped her out of her shoes and leggings. She was taking off her underwear when Brock leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She looked at him.

“Get on your belly,” he said. She did, turning her back to him and crawling closer to the headboard. It felt incredibly vulnerable. Darcy couldn’t not look at him. She watched as he raked his eyes over her body. He adjusted her so her legs were spread. Then he unfolded one of the pieces of fabric and covered her eyes with it. Everything went dark. She breathed slowly as he stretched her arms above her head and tied her wrists together and looped them around something. The headboard? It wasn’t painful, but her whole body felt alive. “Don’t move. I’ll be back. Be good,” he said. Then he left her alone in the room. Darcy wondered what the hell he was doing. She wiggled her arms experimentally. The ties were loose enough for her to get out of them.

He came back quickly and set something on the nightstand. “You know, there’s certain places on the body that have a lot of nerve endings,” he said. He sounded thoughtful. She heard him move onto the bed. He was between her legs. “You got your safe words worked out?” Brock asked. She told him the ones she’d chosen. Simple, universal ones. He repeated them, rolling the words around.

“What about you?” she wondered. He laughed.

“Oh, that’s sweet. You think I worry about you causing me discomfort?” Brock said. She could feel him watching her. The anticipation was agonizing. Darcy jumped when he caressed the backs of her thighs. It was the heat that startled her. His hands were warm with some kind of oil. “Everyone knows that one, though, right?” He stroked downwards slowly and she shivered. “But here?” Brock said. He’d paused, thumbs pressing into the back of her knees. Darcy jolted and whimpered. “Most people don’t really think of the knees as sexy.” He kept massaging the back of her knees, working back upwards towards her ass. 

“Mmm,” Darcy said, turning her head. She wanted to see him. 

“Did you move?” he said, voice wry.

“Yes,” she confessed, wondering if and how he’d respond. He chuckled. “Am I in trouble?”

“That,” Brock said, “is only going to make me keep you on the edge longer, sweetheart.” 

“Oops,” Darcy said, as he leaned down and kissed her low back. She inhaled. He was trailing kisses up her back in an irregular pattern. His thumbs dug into her hips, leaving the warm sensation of oil. “What if I apologize?” she wondered. He paused. 

“You could.”

“I’m very sorry. My curiosity,” Darcy began, “got to me.”

“Hmm. Here’s the thing, _gattina,”_ Brock said, settling his weight on top of her. He felt completely relaxed. “I got time to set some rules,” he said. His hands slid under her body, cupping her breasts. “And you’re a little tied down, huh?” Darcy sighed with longing. He chuckled. One hand moved up to her armpit, applying pressure. It ticked and turned her on at the same time.

“Oh,” Darcy gasped, bucking involuntarily. 

“So, when I tell you not to move,” he said. “You don’t move.”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered. He’d moved his hands again. The oil was warm against her collarbone.

“Good girl.” She felt his lips graze her ear. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. She allowed herself to feel, not think too much, as he applied pressure to parts of her body that she’d never realized were so sensitive. The backs of her knees. Her forearms. The edges of her ears. He’d meant what he said: he kept getting her worked up and then taking his hands away. Once, he even left the room. She didn’t know how he remained so calm. It was almost maddening. Her was massaging her hips when she finally broke down, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. “Please,” she begged, actually wanting to sob. “Please.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said. “All you had to do was say please.” He dropped a kiss on her trembling back and then she heard him get a condom. She was shaking when he pushed into her. It was embarrassing how quickly she came. He untied her and took her blindfold off carefully. “You let me handle things,” he said in her ear. Darcy nodded, unable to speak. “We’re going to see plenty of each other, don’t worry.” 

* * *

“You look great, Honeybun,” Justin told her, as Darcy tugged at the edges of her dress. They were in his limo, en route to the restaurant. Natasha had brought the dress over before Justin picked her up and given her the SHIELD device: it was a small camera necklace. New tech, apparently. It looked like a hollowed out pearl with black diamonds inside; that hid the microcamera inside the pearl. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She was so tired from stumbling home from Rumlow’s at five am, she wasn’t even nervous now.

“You want some champagne? I know how you love that,” Justin said, pulling a bottle out of an ice bucket.

“All right,” Darcy said. He talked as he opened the bottle and poured her a glass. She took the champagne flute wordlessly and peered out the limo window. Justin had put his hand on her thigh.

“What’s going on, baby? You seem off,” Justin said, frowning. He must’ve realized he was losing his audience. She turned her head towards him. “Tell Daddy what’s going on?” he said,

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Darcy said, going with the truth. She arched an eyebrow. 

“Darcy, baby,” Justin said coaxingly. “You know I love you.” He kissed her neck and rubbed her shoulders. Darcy didn’t flinch, thank God. “We’ll go to this meeting, then someplace fun. How about karaoke? You love karaoke. Sing something with me.” He pouted at her and started to sing. Darcy grinned.

“No Adele!” she said. 

“You like Adele,” he said, fiddling with his phone so the limo’s wifi speakers could play one of her favorite songs.

“Everybody likes Adele,” Darcy grumbled. It was annoying how charming he could be. 

“No, Adele?” he said. He switched the music to Dinah Washington’s “Cold, Cold Heart.”

“I actually do like this song,” Darcy said, leaning back against the seat. “So, that won’t work as a tactic.”

“You’re being mean tonight,” Justin said.

“Give me that,” Darcy said, taking his phone. She fiddled with it. She switched the song to Marilyn Monroe’s “After You Get What You Want.” She’d made a little playlist once. He’d kept it, which she hadn’t expected.

“Ouch,” Justin said said. He put a hand over his heart. “This hurts me, Mrs. Hammer.” He leaned forward, gaze intense. 

“Yes?” she said, leaning forward, too. He kissed her with surprising tenderness. Darcy knew she needed to distract him to get his phone in her purse. She met his kiss and intensified it, sliding her tongue between his lips. He enjoyed kissing. She was pretty sure he would enjoy this, she thought, as her tongue grazed the roof of his mouth. Justin moaned and pulled her closer. It was all the encouragement she needed to hide the phone.

“We’re here, sir,” the limo driver said. “Sorry.”

“Goddammit,” Justin said. He huffed, then looked at Darcy. “I’m sorry, baby. We’ll, uh, make this quick. No time at all.”

“Are these people dangerous?” Darcy asked.

“No, no,” Justin said. “You’re perfectly safe.” He gestured to his waistband. He was carrying a gun, she realized. Darcy shook her head.

“That is not very reassuring,” she told him. He only carried around really dodgy people. “Which mafia is it? Greeks? Please don’t say Russians--” Darcy said.

“Honeybun, I’m a patriot,” Justin said. “These are some very nice Americans.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “From where?”

“New York, baby. You love New York,” he said. He put his arms around her waist. “You look really good tonight, have I told you that already?” 

“Don’t try to distract me,” Darcy sassed him.

“You’re the one playing the sexy music,” he objected. Julie London was singing. He kissed her again and this time, Darcy had to pull away.

“We need to get this over with,” she said.

“That’s a good plan,” Justin said, smirking. “You know, people don’t think you’re smart, baby. But I know you are--” he was saying, as she got out of the limo.

“I’m soooo intelligent,” Darcy said dryly, as he clamored out behind her. His phone was in her purse.

“Don’t cut yourself down, Honeybun,” Justin said, as they went into the restaurant. “My therapist and I have discussed it and you know, I really think that it was you being the whole package that made me mess up before.” 

“Me being the whole package?” she said, stopping in the restaurant doorway. “So, your cheating, that was my fault?” she said sharply.

“Yes--I mean, no. Not your fault. It’s that you’re so smart and beautiful and everything, it activated my low self-esteem,” he said. 

“Okay.”

“So, it’s my fault, because you’re so fantastic,” he said. Darcy repressed a sigh, wondering where Natasha and Sharon were; she didn’t trust Justin with her security. “C’mon, let’s get you more champagne.”

“Because I’m so fantastic,” Darcy said. She followed Justin and the hostess to a table in the corner of the restaurant. She was looking for the other women when Justin spoke.

“Mr. Mancuso!” Justin said, with false conviviality, “I want you to meet my wife.” He moved aside so Darcy could see the man sitting in the booth.

“Mrs. Hammer,” Brock Rumlow said, looking at her with an ambiguous expression. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspo for the camera-necklace is Little H stuff: https://littlehjewelry.com/collections/finestrino-collection/products/tahitian-pearl-and-black-diamond-finestrino-pendant-14-15mm


	4. My Friends Call Me Jimmy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Why don’t we get some champagne, huh?” Justin said to the waiter. He slipped him money. “Big bottle, your best champagne, you know the drill.”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter said.

“Look at that. Yes, sir. Nice kid, huh?” Justin said. “Warms my heart, Mr. Mancuso.”

“Jimmy,” Brock said, “my friends call me Jimmy.” Darcy was trying not to feel things when he talked, but he’d practically conditioned her to melt whenever he spoke. What the hell was he doing here, she wondered. If he was one of the potential buyers, why did they need her? Also, he could have--should have--mentioned it last night, she thought. That made her feel all angry, all of a sudden. It was very confusing, being turned on and angry at the same time. She couldn’t not talk. She was too irritated.

“Jimmy,” Darcy said archly. “Like Jimmy Blue Eyes?”

“We’re all friends, isn’t that great?” Justin said, missing the subtext.

“My eyes aren’t blue,” Rumlow said, tilting his head. Darcy tried not to blush as he looked at her. “You have an interest in the five families?” she asked. Darcy smiled, shrugging.

“Maybe,” she said, “I’ve seen a few movies.”

“Not many people know Jimmy Blue Eyes Alo,” Rumlow said.

“She has all kinds of interests,” Justin said, laughing. Rumlow turned his head to look at Justin. 

“You’re in a good mood, Hammer,” Brock said, still expressionless. 

“We’ve just recently reconciled. About to go on another honeymoon--” Justin said brightly.

“We didn’t really have a first one,” Darcy said. She beamed at Justin. “It was a whirlwind romance.” 

“Aw, Honeybun. Isn’t she sweet? She’s right. We got married in Vegas,” Justin said. “You should’ve seen her, practically falling into the Bellagio, the Venetian. As soon as I met her, I knew she was the one for me. She loves to gamble.”

“I like to win,” Darcy said, leaning into her spoiled wifey routine and rubbing Justin’s arm. Rumlow noticed and his gaze darkened. Darcy met his eyes for a second. 

“She’s a winner,” Justin said. She glanced away when the waiter came back over. He opened the bottle and Justin prattled at him. “He’s brought us Dom. I love Dom, she loves Dom. That’s fantastic. Lemme give you a little something, kid,” Justin said. He passed a folded twenty to the waiter.

“Thank you,” she told the waiter when he gave her a flute. She sipped eagerly as they ordered. She usually let Justin order for her. He liked that. It made him feel flamboyant, she could tell. He liked anything that made him feel larger than life. Justin grinned at her, then looked at Rumlow. 

“She’s got natural taste,” Justin said. “Don’t you, baby?” He squeezed her hand. “Look at how gorgeous she is, like, uh, what’s her name--baby, you know the name?”

“Who?” Darcy said.

“Classic Hollywood chick,” Justin said. He snapped his fingers. “What’s her name, married Sinatra.”

“Ava Gardner?” Darcy said.

“That’s the one!” Justin said, petting the back of Darcy’s head. He looked at Rumlow. “You see it, right?”

“I see it,” Rumlow said flatly. 

“The Ava to my Sinatra,” Justin said in an oily voice. “Love of my life.” 

“That’s why I married him, his comparisons are always very flattering,” Darcy said.

“C’mon, it’s true,” Justin said. He ate and then talked about weapons. Darcy pretended to be absorbed in her scampi. Rumlow and Justin were discussing a finite point about ammunition when she _mm’d_ accidentally. 

“Sorry,” she said.

“It is so hot when you do that,” Justin said, laughing. “I forgot, baby. I forgot that you do that.” He grasped her chin and kissed her intently. “We’ve got a room at the St. Regis tonight,” he said. “Oops, that was supposed to be a surprise. She likes hotel sex.”

“Justin!” Darcy said,.

“It’s true, don’t deny it,” he said teasingly. “She sees a room service menu and we’re at it like rabbits. So much fun being married.”

“I’m only his fourth wife,” Darcy said. “So, you can tell he’s not that into marriage.”

“Fourth, huh?” Rumlow said.

“You have a wife?” Justin asked.

“No,” he said. His face, Darcy thought. Was he thinking about Sharon? Probably, she decided.

“You should get one,” Justin said. “I recommend a good wife.”

“Of his own or someone else’s?” Darcy cracked. Justin laughed.

“That’s a good joke, baby,” Justin said. “She’s very smart.”

“I might have stolen it,” she said, “but I better be the smartest wife.” Justin waved his fork.

“You know it. She’s the only one who matters. She’s my good luck,” Justin told Rumlow. “Everything goes better when she’s around. You know that, right, baby?”

“Mmm, that’s good, if I’m going to stick around,” Darcy said, ducking her head against Justin’s shoulder. She was pretending to be tipsy and flattered--she was tipsy. She could feel the flush in her cheeks. 

“You are,” Justin said. “Everything’s going to be different.” She twirled her fork. He looked at Rumlow. “We’re working on our relationship,” he said.

“Apparently, I’m too fantastic,” Darcy said.

“It’s true, my therapist thinks I sabotaged things,” Justin said. “You ever sabotage a relationship and the minute she’s gone, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Rumlow said.

“As soon as her attorneys told me she didn’t want a big settlement, I knew,” Justin said. “She’s not a vindictive personality.”

“You’re very complimentary tonight,” she slurred.

“It’s all true,” Justin said. “Look at her. You want some of this steak? Tell Daddy you want some steak.”

“I’d love some, Daddy,” Darcy said. She opened her mouth and let him feed her off his fork. 

“She likes that,” Justin said. “One of her best qualities. She’s a good little baby.” 

“You ought to be careful,” Rumlow said. “You upsell a woman too much, other men might decide she’s worth stealing.” Darcy coughed in surprise. It took her a moment to reply.

“Stealing?” Darcy said. “What, like for ransom?”

“Not gonna be a problem. She’ll have my people. We’re gonna be inseparable,” Justin said, waving his fork. “I can’t be without my good luck charm,” he said, spearing some asparagus. 

“If you keep calling me that, I’m going to want chips,” Darcy said. Justin grinned.

“She doesn’t mean potato,” he said, laughing at a glowering Rumlow. He leaned over and kissed Darcy’s shoulder. “I need to take you to Monaco, Honeybun.”

“Could we?” Darcy said, making her voice delighted. 

“I could have a plane in two, three hours,” Justin said. “If you want to skip the St. Regis.” He checked his smart watch. “See this? New model,” he told Rumlow. “I love technology--”

“Is that right?” Rumlow said. “Well, let’s do this deal, huh? Then you can have your honeymoon, Hammer.” His voice was blunt.

“Yeah, uh, huh--about that,” Justin said, putting down his champagne glass. “I’ve got other interested parties, so this is just a mediation--”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Rumlow said.

“It’s just going to take some time,” Justin said.

“Justin,” Darcy said sourly.

“Relax, man.” Justin held up his hands in surrender. “We’re all friends here, okay? This is a friendly meeting.”

“Is that so?” Rumlow said, expression openly hostile now. “We’re supposed to be here to do a fucking deal Hammer. Are you trying to screw us over?”

“We’ll work it out, we just need to talk numbers,” Justin said. “I’ve got a little nibble on those missiles--” Darcy sighed and Rumlow looked murderous.

“I’m going to go refresh my makeup,” Darcy said. She downed the last swig of her champagne, then stood. Justin was still talking about nibbles. She knew without looking back that Rumlow was watching her go. She passed the phone to Nat--wearing a dark wig--in the hallway outside the bathroom. When she went in, Sharon was standing at the sink.

“Nice night,” Sharon said politely. Darcy nodded. She’d ducked into a stall to pee and then emerged to wash her hands, finding herself alone. She scrubbed her fingers, taking deep breaths. She would be fine, she would be fine--Darcy jumped when the door opened abruptly and Brock Rumlow walked in.

“This is a ladies’ room,” she began, but he’d locked the door and pulled her against him. “And I’m pissed at you,” Darcy added. “You could’ve warned me.”

“Shhh,” he said. “We’ve got five minutes.” He looked at her. “Please,” he added, in a low voice. That made her melt a little. He gazed at her intensely for a long moment. That look killed what was left of her reluctance. 

“Damn it,” she whispered, unable to resist him. Darcy thought he might need this. She reached down and hiked her skirt. “Hurry up,” she said. She paused. “Please,” she added.

“Yeah,” he said. She followed his hand as he took the necklace and slung the pendant over her shoulder, so it faced away from them. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, sighing, as he lifted her against the nearest wall. There was an urgency in his movements and his eyes. Darcy had never seen him like this. He knew she was going home with Justin tonight, she realized, as he pushed her underwear aside and started moving. It was a scrambling, frantic quickie. “Uhhh,” Darcy said. She muffled her mouth against his neck, clinging to him. The wall was uncomfortable against her back and there wasn’t enough preamble for her. But she could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders as he shoved into her. 

“Baby,” he muttered. “Just think about me. Think about me when we’re not together, okay?”

“Yeah,” she told him, nodding. He pressed his mouth to hers urgently. The kiss was almost rough. She stared into his eyes, feeling stunned, when he pulled his lips away.

“Good,” he said, thrusting more rapidly. It was over too fast; he came with a groan and let her slide down, still clinging to his shirt. “Fuck,” he said, “fuck.” He seemed to come out of a daze, staring as if he didn’t understand how he got there.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He turned his head, grimacing. He looked miserable. “I’m fine.” He didn’t sound fine. She was leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath and pull down her skirt when the door opened again, making her jump. Darcy was relieved when it was only Natasha. She gave Rumlow a stern look, then passed Darcy the phone. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Brock looked like he wanted to speak, the stopped.

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said. “Although this room feels...crowded?” She arched an eyebrow at Rumlow; he gave her a dark look, then left the bathroom. Darcy swiped a paper towel between her thighs, muttering curses. “You’re okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Darcy said. Natasha’s expression was skeptical.

“Sure.”

“I’m sexually attracted to men who are giant messes, but I’m otherwise sane,” Darcy said. That actually earned her a smile. “I’m going back to the table,” Darcy said, tossing the paper towel in the trash. “If he takes me out of the country, please get someone to help Jane, she’s not great at sleeping and eating when left to her own devices.”

“Noted,” Natasha said.

When Darcy got back, she sat down and Justin grinned at her. “Baby, you’re all pink,” he said.

“You know how champagne makes me--” Darcy lied, fanning herself.

“Let’s have some more,” Justin said. “I like how champagne makes you, Honeybun.”

“I know you do,” Darcy said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, slipping the phone back in his pocket. Justin brayed out a laugh, then kissed her temple.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? You wanna go dancing?” Justin asked. “She loves to dance.”

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I’d love to, baby.” She raked her fingers through Justin’s hair, hoping he didn’t notice their trembling. But Justin was busy tapping his fork on the table. He liked to move, Darcy knew. Hated sitting still. He looked across the table. She hadn’t looked at Rumlow.

“Jimmy, do you dance?” Justin asked Brock. “You feel like some dancing?”

“Not really one of my hobbies,” Rumlow said, setting down his knife with a thump. “Call me when we have a fucking deal, Hammer.” He left abruptly. Justin watched him go, arm slung over Darcy’s shoulder.

“Some people just don’t understand the art of movement,” Justin said. “Your necklace is backwards, baby. Here, lemme fix that.” He smiled as he turned her necklace around. “You want me to buy you some jewelry?”

“That’s not--” Darcy began. Justin laughed.

“What about some little diamonds, huh?” Justin said. “Just a few?”

  
  


* * *

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” Sharon said. Rumlow shrugged. They were in the surveillance van with one of the techs. “You were humping her in a bathroom,” Sharon said. “In the middle of an operation.” She really wished she'd shot him at Triskelion, all of a sudden. He was so infuriating. 

“So?” he said, obstinately blank-faced. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. “I cannot possibly explain to you all the ways in which this was a mistake--”

“When has lack of time ever stopped you?” Rumlow said, smirking.

“You--you asshole!” Sharon fumed. “I swear to God, if you put her in danger and fuck up my op, I will shoot you.” She paused. “I will shoot you in the dick.”

“I wouldn’t put her danger, Sharon,” Rumlow said. Sharon started to speak again, then stopped. Natasha was on comms and had said something. 

“They’re leaving,” Sharon said. “For God’s sake, keep it in your pants at work, Brock.” He laughed. “Seriously?” Sharon said. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I think you’re jealous. Because she’s fun and exciting.” 

“You--you are being completely ridiculous and unprofessional,” Sharon said. “I’m the one trying to keep her safe from that line dancing, weaponized lunatic in there. What happens if she slips up and he gets angry?”

“She won’t,” Rumlow said. “She’s good, Sharon. And he loves her.” Sharon stared at him, stunned. 

“You realize you could’ve gotten caught,” she said slowly.

“We were fine,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m sitting up front with Natasha,” she said.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked. She was driving the van. Sharon had climbed into the passenger seat, swearing.

“He--he thinks I’m jealous!” she said. 

“Are you?” Natasha asked, expression curious, as she followed the limo.

“No, of course not,” Sharon said. “I’m worried about Hammer catching them.” She shook her head. “Apparently, they’ve been seeing each other.” She did air quotes around the last words.

“Yes,” Natasha said. 

“You knew?” Sharon said. Natasha shrugged. 

“It didn’t seem terribly serious,” she said. “Darcy hasn’t told Jane who is he, I assumed she was a casual fling for him as well.”

“Until about thirty minutes ago, when he risked a three-month operation to get some,” Sharon said. “What is he even _thinking?”_

“I can think of lots of ideas,” Natasha said. “Hammer activates competitive jealousy in lots of men. Tony Stark, for example.”

“So stupid,” Sharon said.

“Yes,” Natasha agreed. “But she’s also encouraging her ex-husband’s affection, dressing and behaving flirtatiously with someone else in front of him. That might be on Rumlow’s mind. Potentially, she could return to Hammer.”

“What?” Sharon said. “He’s a skeeve.”

“She married him once,” Natasha said. “He’s very decided in his attention to her, in his way. Many women might be charmed by a wealthy man finding them irresistible.”

“Gross,” Sharon said. Natasha laughed. “What?” she said to the Black Widow.

“You just have a built in creep detector,” Natasha said.

“It’s genetic,” Sharon said. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who’d have hit on Aunt Peggy and gotten clocked in the jaw.” She looked at Natasha. “Whatever’s going on in Brock’s head, I want to keep Darcy safe.”

“Of course,” Natasha said. They were just two cars behind the limo as it pulled into the parking lot of a nightclub. The parking lot was crowded.

“What if--is it possible that Brock loves Darcy?” Sharon said. “This soon?” She looked at Natasha. The other woman shrugged. 

“Who knows?” she said. “Love is--”

“Don’t do ‘love is for children’ at me, that was a serious question,” Sharon grumbled, cutting her off. “And you love all kinds of people. You’d get shot for Ali from the pita place.” Ali was the older man from Jordan who ran a food stand in DC.

“Nobody else makes gyros like Ali,” Natasha said. She parked the van where they could see Hammer’s limo. “It’s worth getting shot.”

“We should get Ali’s for lunch on Monday,” Sharon said. 

* * *

Darcy clapped as Justin did a slow mo half-split on the dance floor. The crowd around them stared in astonishment. But she knew it was his signature move. He danced his way back up again and over to Darcy. “You want to go to Monaco tonight?” Justin yelled over the music. It was a salsa club. He was a great dancer, Darcy could admit. Nobody else could work those moves into a reggaeton song. It was truly impressive. Darcy shook her head. She wasn’t going out of the country with him, if she could help it.

“I remembered I have work!” Darcy yelled, as he spun her around.

“You’re breaking my heart, baby.” Justin was pouting now. Darcy tilted her head up, smiling at him. She had an alternative option.

“You don’t think the St. Regis is better than a casino?” she said with mock-innocence. Of the two, she preferred staying in DC, if she was going to pretend to be in love with him again. Justin lit up. 

“As a matter of fact, that sounds much more romantic,” he said. “But we’ve got a stop to make first. Lemme make a call.”

“What?” Darcy said. He wouldn’t say anything else. But she tried to listen to him as he talked to someone on the phone. “Where are we going?” Darcy yelled over the music, as he led her out of the club. 

“We’re gonna see a friend, Honeybun. Don’t worry,” Justin said. 

She had no idea where they were going--and she didn’t like it. When they stopped, Justin smiled at her. “Come meet my buddy Semka,” he said.

“Semka?” Darcy repeated.

“He’s a diamond guy,” Justin said. “Very cool.”

* * *

“Shit,” Brock said, as he watched the limo stop on the monitors. They’d put trackers on Hammer’s vehicle. “This is Lebedev’s.” The tech looked at him. “Semyon Lebedev. Diamond business, he’s got links to Russian mafia up in Brighton Beach. We’ve never been able to get him for anything, but we think he’s washing illegal poker money through the shop, inflating his sales. His diamonds aren’t worth shit. Fuck.” The barrier between the front and the back of the van slid open.

“Why are you panicking?” Natasha said.

“Do we need to talk about the Russian mob?” Rumlow said. “I’m getting out of the van.”

“You stay, I’ll go,” Natasha said. 

“He’s just buying her a present,” Sharon said. 

“Buying diamonds for much more than they’re worth,” Natasha added, listening in. She opened the door. “You drive,” she told Sharon. She looked at Rumlow. “You are emotionally compromised.” Rumlow made an inarticulate noise. Sharon slid over into the driver’s seat as Natasha disappeared into the darkness. Sharon looked back at Brock. He was tapping his foot. 

“You like her,” Sharon said.

“We’re not doing this here,” he said.

“What did you think would happen?” Sharon asked, moving the van. In the rearview mirror, the tech looked nervous. She thought he might’ve left with Romanoff, given the choice. Rumlow didn't answer at first. Sharon was at a red light when he finally spoke.

“I thought he would take her to a fucking hotel, not some of his shitty friends’ places,” Rumlow said quietly.


	5. Operational Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“We’ll swap these out, Honeybun,” Justin said, unhooking her camera necklace. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, putting it in her purse. She was slowly starting to panic. She’d delayed Justin for as long as possible, playing with jewelry options. It had been easy to do because he was pumped full of energy from dancing, but now reality was setting in for her. Darcy didn’t know if she could actually get him to answer the questions that Natasha and Sharon had given her. What if she screwed up?

“You look fantastic,” Justin said, turning her towards a mirror on the glass case. The diamonds—floating on a fine chain—did look nice. He’d picked them out.

“I love them,” Darcy cooed, pursing her lips for a kiss. He swayed with her in a little shimmy.

“Isn’t she great?” Justin said. Justin was smiling and chatty as the Semka guy looked bored and, frankly, a little irritated. 

“Yes,” he said, clearly fatigued by Justin’s manic energy. 

“You sure you don’t want a few more pieces--” Justin began. Darcy shook her head.

“We should let your friend go back to bed,” Darcy said, adjusting Justin’s shirt. “And we can go back to the hotel?” He grinned at her.

“That,” he said, pursing his lips, “sounds like a really good idea.” Darcy repressed a sigh. She had to figure out a natural way to get that information. She figured it out in the limo, holding her open handbag in her lap; she was hoping the camera’s audio would pick up. She decided to ask Justin how much time they’d get to spend together. “Are you going to be gone for all these meetings?” Darcy asked dramatically. “I don’t like it. That Jimmy guy seemed sketchy--he was pissed, Justin.”

“Honeybun, it’s only two meetings. And I can handle Mancuso,” Justin insisted. 

“But you won’t have a lot of them?” Darcy said. “And then we can go on a trip?” She looked deeply into his eyes, smiling. That had been on of Natasha’s techniques. Eye contact. That got him talking about the burden of his responsibilities and how much he missed her. Along the way, he named days where he’d been meeting with someone.

“---Tuesday, I’ll see Semka’s buddy Dmitri,” Justin said. “And that’s it.”

“Good,” Darcy said, leaning forward to kiss him.

* * *

“That what you need?” the tech said to Sharon. He was enhancing the audio from Darcy’s necklace in the back of the van as they trailed the limo through DC. Sharon heard Rumlow shift behind her.

“Most of it,” she said. “We could use more details on this meeting with the Ukrainians--what are you doing?” She’d looked at Brock. He was clicking his pen and tapping his phone, expression intense.

“Jack and the team are available,” he said, eyes moving to her face. “We could do an extraction for information--”

“You just want to rough him up? You think he’ll give us information that way?” Sharon said, imagining him slugging Hammer. She knew he wanted to; she’d heard the way he ended the meet. 

“No,” Rumlow said. “I wasn’t thinking of him.” He looked at her significantly.

“Oh,” Sharon said, reimagining the scene in her mind.

“He does want to rough Hammer up a little,” Natasha said, from behind the wheel. Rumlow made a low noise. Sharon was busy thinking about his suggestion.

“It could work,” she admitted. “He might even come to SHIELD for help, since we’re her employer.”

“And it would prevent you from having to listen to all that tonight,” Natasha said. “Less distressing for everyone.”

“I’m not fucking distressed,” Rumlow said. “But it’s fucked up that Fury wants her to do this.”

“Ah,” Natasha said. 

* * *

The St. Regis was a very glam hotel, Darcy thought guiltily, as Justin talked to the front desk guy. Historic, a few blocks from the White House, the whole deal. She wandered around the red and gold lobby, glancing out a window as she took selfies. A van was circling the block. “Baby, where’d you go?” Justin called over his shoulder. “They do weddings here,” he said. “You do weddings, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the front desk guy said.

“I was taking pictures,” Darcy said. She smiled at the employee. “It’s so nice here.”

“We should get married again,” Justin said. “Have a big ceremony, do it up right.”

“We are married,” Darcy said. She looked around and sighed in what she hoped was a wistful manner. “But I’d love to get married somewhere like this.”

“Yeah?” Justin said. “We can do that, Honeybun.”

“Our Astor Terrace is a very popular wedding venue,” the clerk said. 

“Can we see that?” Darcy said.

“Ohhh, yeah,” Justin said. “The Astor Terrace.” It turned out to be an elegant courtyard, lined with small trees. 

“It’s available for day and evening ceremonies,” the employee showing them around said. “Many of our couples have a ceremony here and a reception inside.” Justin was nodding; he was a pro at this, Darcy remembered, repressing her smirk. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said. 

“Wait until you see the suite. I got her the Presidential suite,” he bragged. He looked around. “Yeah. Yeah,” he said. “Ceremony here, reception inside, plenty of room to invite important people--”

“Important people?” Darcy said, as they walked back in.

“Business associates,” Justin said. “People get offended if you don’t invite them to your big day, baby--”

“I’ve never had a big day,” Darcy said, laying it on thick.

“You will,” Justin said. “Stick with me.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She made sure to ohh and ahh when they were led into the cream and gold Presidential suite. “Ohh, marble floors!” she said. 

“Hot, right?” Justin asked, groping at her. The employee looked embarrassed.

“Justin,” Darcy said. “Tip him, so we can be alone.”

“Sure, sure,” Justin said. He reached for his wallet. “How late does room service run?”

* * *

The building behind the hotel belonged to a labor union, so there was no one present at night to see the black-clad men on the roof. “Presidential suite?” one said to the other, gazing through a sight that could see through walls. They could see the two bodies inside. One was sitting on the sofa; the second was in the bathroom.

“That’s her,” the second man said. “No injuries, yeah?” The team moved silently from one roof to the other.

* * *

“Hi,” Darcy said to Justin. She’d left him on the sofa and gone into the bathroom to freshen up. She had re-whispered a bunch of information directly into the necklace, too. Now she was barefoot. He looked up from his phone. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said.

“Did you want to unzip me?” she offered, turning around. He was easing down her zipper when there was a small click, so faint it didn’t register at first. Neither of them looked as people poured into the suite. Darcy had her back to the door, so she didn’t see the men in black until one put a gun to Justin’s head and he yelled. Another grabbed her and dragged her, dress unzipped, out of the room. She was screaming, but he’d put his gloved hand over her mouth. Her abductor was so tall, Darcy’s feet dangled helplessly as she tried to fight. Her last glimpse of Justin was as they disarmed him and pushed him to the floor.

“You fucking stupid?” one of the men said, kicking him. “You think you can con us, asshole? You broke the deal, now we’re gonna break you--”

“Darcy--” Justin yelled, looking back at her. That was when the man kicked him in the stomach and Justin groaned and writhed in pain.

“Tie him up and leave him,” the man ordered. “We’ve got the wife.” Darcy scrambled, trying to kick and scratch and elbow at the man holding her as he carried her out of the suite and into a stairwell in the hall. He made towards the stairs, headed upwards. She knew this was when she needed to make a break for it--before they took her to a second location. She sunk her teeth into her abductor’s hand as hard as she could. He yelped.

“Darce,” a familiar voice said. She knew that accent.

“Jack?” she said. He pulled up his mask and grinned at her. 

“Here to get you out, love,” he said.

"Oh, thank God, I thought you were Ukrainian mafia or something!" she said. He shook his head, grinning, and zipped her dress back up.

“You’re all right with heights, yeah?”

“Umm, sure,” Darcy said, letting him carry her. “What’s going to happen to Justin?”

“We’re letting him think we’re ransoming you,” Jack said, as they got to the roof. “New plan.”

“Good plan,” Darcy said, relieved. Or she was, until Jack sat her down and smiled like a shark on the Discovery channel. Another man was was waiting. He passed Jack gear.

“We’re going to rappel across to the union,” Jack said, buckling her to him with a harness. “Mind your feet.” She was still barefoot.

“That seems...far,” Darcy said slowly. He hooked her to the thin line between the buildings.

“We can get her shoes in the van,” the second, still-masked guy said.

“It’ll be fun, promise,” Jack said. “So, uh---how are things with Jane and Thor?”

“Wha---” Darcy began, her question turning to an excited shriek. She had to admit, it was exciting. When they landed, she was giddy. “Oh my God!” Darcy said. “That was amazing!”

“Yeah?” Jack said. He carried her all the way through the building and to a waiting van. Along the way, several men melted out of the dark next to them.

“About Jane,” Darcy said. “She and Thor are, uh, on and off? He’s away a lot. But definitely chill about her...seeing other people?” Jane had dated a guy at their last lab. Darcy thought there might’ve been some overlap between Thor and Andrew, but she didn’t want to speak for Jane.

“Yeah?” Jack said.

“Also, she was very impressed with your tiger nurturing skills,” Darcy said. He smiled a truly terrifying smile.

* * *

They took Darcy to a safe house in the suburbs. Cameron Klein was waiting. “Cam,” she said, delighted, when she realized he was there to take her camera necklace.

“You okay?” he asked, looking nervous.

“I’m fine, I just don’t have shoes--” Darcy said, laughing.

“This is Romanoff’s safe house, so there should be clothes,” Cam said. “She told me there was coffee, too.”

“Great,” Darcy said.

“I’ll have Jane get some shoes for you,” Jack said. Cam looked at him in surprise. Darcy realized it was the friendly tone that had surprised him.

“Oh, Jack,” Darcy said, before he left. She took her new diamond necklace off with a sigh. “Take this and use it to scare Justin, if you need to? Maybe put a little blood on it?”

“Bonzer idea,” Jack said. He hugged her goodbye. Cam looked alarmed at that.

"He..he likes you?" Cam said, a little awestruck. "He mostly growls at people!"

"I think he mostly likes Jane," Darcy said.

"Oh. Really?" he said, face even more stunned. Cam led Darcy around the safe house and explained that she’d be hiding out there for several days. “Romanoff’s clothes should fit you,” he said. “And I got groceries. There’s a Chromebook and a burner phone.”

“You thought of everything,” Darcy said happily, when she saw the Cheetos and the laptop on the kitchen counter. He’d even set her up a fake Google account. Cam stayed with her for awhile, until she’d asked every question she could think of and put on Romanoff’s stretchy lounge pants and t-shirt. It was nearly four in the morning.

“If you need anything, call me--” Cam said, as she walked him to the door.

“I really appreciate your help. And snacks,” Darcy said. 

“It’s my job,” he sai, shrugging.

“I’ll tell Sharon you did a fantastic job,” Darcy said. He blushed. 

“You don’t have to--”

“You know you want me to tell--oh,” Darcy said, opening the door. Rumlow was standing there, several feet from the door. “Hi,” she said, surprised.

“Hello,” Cam said. 

“I was coming to check on you,” Rumlow said. He was parked down the street, she realized. “Got your shoes from Jack.” He was carrying them in his hands. “Hi, Klein.”

“I’m just going,” Cam said. 

“Goodnight,” Darcy said, as they switched places. “Thanks for the groceries, Cam.”

“Yeah,” Cam said. “Just call me if you need anything?” She nodded and watched as Cam pulled out of the driveway. 

“You should get inside,” Rumlow said quietly.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, looking at him. Even in the dark, she thought his jaw looked tense. She went inside. He shut and locked the door behind her. 

“You okay?” Rumlow said. He seemed to hesitate. She wondered if he was put off by watching her kiss Justin.

“Definitely,” she said. “SHIELD thought of everything. Cam even got me snacks.” Rumlow tilted his head at her, grimacing.

“You’re probably tired,” Rumlow said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She hesitated, too. “Can you spend the night?”

“Yeah,” he said, expression shifting. She couldn’t tell if he was happy about it. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.” 

* * *

“C’mere,” he said, still ambiguous, when she came out of the bedroom and got into bed. Darcy wiggled over to him. She realized he’d already taken his clothes off under the sheet. “You feel okay?” he said, reaching for the tie on her pants. She smiled, relieved that he seemed normal.

“Yeah,” she said, letting him take off her clothes. He was very slow and careful, studying her. Then Brock crossed his legs and boosted her onto his lap. Darcy steadied herself as he rubbed her thighs. They were facing each other, bodies close. She wanted to lean into him, but his gaze was cryptic. 

“I’m going to put on a condom,” he said. She nodded. He shifted to get one and she leaned against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, kissing his neck, “for getting me out of there. I didn’t know if--” She paused. He looked up from putting on the condom, then clasped her face, thumb touching her cheek. It was a gentle movement.

“We’re gonna go slow tonight,” he said, kissing her. “I was, uh, worked up earlier. I’m sorry.” He seemed perfectly sincere. 

“Yeah?” she said, feeling strangely timid in the face of his gentleness. She could feel herself blush. He grinned at her.

“You getting nervous on me?” he asked.

“Just a little shy,” she confessed.

“Darcy. Just look at me,” Brock said. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.” She nodded. He kept his gaze on her as he shifted her into his lap and down onto him, then started to move, hands on her waist. She’d never had sex like this, wrapped in someone’s arms. It felt almost excruciatingly intimate. His eyes were constantly on her face, his hands gentle on her body, as they moved together. 

“Ohhh,” she sighed. She felt emotional. 

“You like this?” he said, voice raspy. Darcy nodded. He dragged his nose across her cheeks, nuzzling her. It was so intimate, it unmoored her. She had raked her fingers through his hair when her eyes started to well up. 

“Shit,” she muttered, wiping the back of her hand over one eye. “Don’t stop,” she said. He’d slowed when she did. He moved his hips again, rocking her gently.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her. He kept murmuring it to her--his lips against her mouth, her earlobes, her hair. 

* * *

“Oh for God’s sake,” a female voice said. “It’s _you.”_ Darcy blinked. She was curled up against Brock. Afternoon light was visible through the blinds. “I thought something was wrong when she didn’t answer the burner and it’s just you bonking her brains out!” she added. Darcy got her glasses, yawning. 

“Why are you here?” Brock said. Darcy realized it was Sharon standing over them and reflexively pulled the sheet more over her boobs. Brock looked at her. “You awake, baby?” he asked, smiling slowly.

“I’m here to talk to Darcy. You’re not supposed to be here,” Sharon grumbled. “You’re Jimmy Mancuso, remember?”

“She needed her shoes, Carter,” Brock said. “And only my friends get to call me Jimmy.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said, trying to follow.

“Don’t apologize--” Brock said.

“It’s not your fault,” Sharon said at the same time. Darcy stared at them. He’d just snarked as if Sharon wasn’t his friend? She felt confused.

“Are you two fighting?” she said. “I thought--”

“What?” Brock asked, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?” He looked at Sharon and made a face. “Can you give us a minute?”

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said, puzzled. 

“I’ll let you get dressed,” Sharon said. She left the bedroom. Darcy looked at Brock out of the corner of her eye. He was rubbing a hand over his face. He sighed.

“Gotta put fucking clothes on,” he muttered.

“Are--are you angry with her?” Darcy wondered.

“She doesn’t have to be here, barging in on us,” Brock said, stepping into his pants. Darcy stared at him.

“You were engaged to her,” Darcy said. He stopped and looked at her.

“You know about that?” he said. “It was years ago. Like four, five years.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. He bent down again.

“We were engaged for a few months, it was a mistake,” he said, picking Darcy’s borrowed clothes off the floor for her. “Huge fucking mistake.”

“Oh,” she repeated. It was obvious he still had feelings for Sharon. 

  
  



	6. Out of The Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Ugh,” Darcy murmured as she pulled her hair into a top knot. She’d gone into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Her reflection was sad: she had pillow marks on her cheek, her hair was frizzy, and Natasha’s t-shirt was a little snug across the chest. She felt awkward and sloppy. And she had to face Sharon. Sharon who always looked crisp and cool and together. She splashed on more water.

“You okay?” Brock said through the door.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ll be right out.” When she came out, she could hear him bickering with Sharon again. She walked into to the living room.

“All I’m saying is--” she heard Brock declare, before Sharon snorted.

“I know what your primary focus is,” Sharon told him. 

“Um, hello?” Darcy said. When he saw her, Brock smoothed over his expression.

“You want coffee?” he offered.

“Yes,” Darcy said, desperately trying to move away from whatever _former-couple-still-emotionally attached_ thing was happening when she wasn’t present. 

“I’m here to ask you some follow-up questions about Justin,” Sharon said.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Has he given you information?” Sharon shook her head. “Damn,” Darcy said.

“We are currently pretending that you’re missing,” Sharon explained. “He’s called Jane--”

“Jack is with her,” Brock cut in, “for her safety. She knows you’re okay. Don’t worry about Jane.”

“Good,” Darcy said. She’d called Jane last night on the burner phone, but she didn’t know if she was supposed to, so she didn’t mention it.

“And Thor, too, I think,” Sharon said. She’d turned to look at Brock and now looked back at Darcy. “She’s very safe. Now we’re trying to get Justin to cooperate with us under the guise of SHIELD finding you.”

“That’s a great idea,” Darcy said.

“Wasn’t my idea,” Sharon said, “but it is a great idea. Right now, I need to know how you think Justin will respond if he’s presented with information that suggests you’ve been injured.”

“Well, he’ll pretend to be upset, I think?” Darcy said, worrying her lip. “I mean, I don’t think he really loves me, not more than he loves himself, but he likes to give a performance--I don’t know how scared he’d have to be to really be genuine in the intelligence.” Brock brought over her coffee mug and she took it. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh--” Darcy was startled when he sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand was stroking her back. Was he trying to provoke Sharon, she wondered?

“He’d have to think he was under threat, too?” Brock said, jolting her out of her preoccupation. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “That’s exactly it. Make him think he’s in danger. He really loves himself.”

“Good to know,” Sharon said. “We can add everything you tell us to his official psych profile.” Darcy shifted to face Sharon, trying to focus. She asked Darcy several other questions, nailing down different details and getting Darcy’s impression of the Semka guy. Sharon looked at Darcy. “You gave Jack your necklace,” she said, frowning. “He said you told him to use it. Are you sure you don’t want it back?”

“Nope,” Darcy said, shrugging. “Take it.”

“She’s not into materialistic things,” Brock said from behind her. Darcy’s head swiveled in surprise. 

“Since when?” she said. “I like material things. Tons of material things. Just not _that_ material thing. Or tigers.” She sighed and turned back to Sharon. “I hope Jack and Jane aren’t having too much trouble with him. The tiger, not Justin.”

“When I talked to Jack on the phone, he was feeding the tiger,” Sharon said, grinning. “He seems happy.”

“That’s a relief,” Darcy said, as Brock began rubbing her hip in long, slow strokes. She saw Sharon’s eyes track down. Sharon had noticed, Darcy realized. Repressing a sigh, she tried to smile at Sharon. She wondered what he was playing at? “Is there any else I can help with? Staged photos or something?” Darcy added.

“Staged photos?” Brock said.

“If I’m supposed to be kidnapped? I’ve seen them do it on TV,” Darcy said, turning her head.

“Where?” he said, grinning. She pretended to elbow him, using his laughter as a proxy to push his hand away. 

“Dateline--don’t laugh, it was a legitimate police tactic when they’ve got an undercover cop pretending to be killing someone’s ex. Stuff like that,” Darcy said. 

“I could set you up with the SHIELD psych ops team--” Sharon began, before Brock spoke.

“No,” he said. “She doesn’t need to be in the office if Hammer is there. I can handle it.”

“You can handle it?” Darcy said.

“It makes sense for me to take the photos, I’m supposed to be kidnapping you,” he said, resettling his hands at her waist. “I can make a cameo appearance as Jimmy,” he cracked.

“I can’t argue with that,” Sharon said. Darcy nodded. “All right,” she said, standing up. “Can you get those photos done today?”

“You’re ready?” Brock asked Darcy.

“Yeah. I’d like this all to be over quickly,” she told Sharon.

“Are you going into the office today?” Sharon asked Brock.

“No,” he said. 

“You’re not?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Jimmy isn’t an office guy,” Brock said, thumb kneading her back in slow movements. “We’ll get those photos to you,” he told Sharon.

* * *

“Justin,” Jane said slowly, for the fifth time, “if someone has taken Darcy, SHIELD needs to get involved!” She made her voice sharp and clutched at the telephone for good measure. Across the lab, Jack looked up and grinned. He’d come up, ostensibly to visit the tiger, but also to ask Jane to lunch. She’d said yes. He’d explained that Darcy was seeing Rumlow. Rumlow! Jane couldn’t imagine how it was possible, since they barely interacted with each other, and also, Jack was available. Jane grinned back at him. He was holding the tiger.

“Well, uh,” Justin said, sounding nervous. “The thing is---”

“I’m telling them myself, you asshole,” Jane hissed down the line.

“No, no,” Justin said. He paused. “Well...could you tell them? I have a hard time breaking bad news to people, you know...I hate to be a downer...”

“You--you miserable bastard,” Jane said, hanging up abruptly. She looked at Jack, smiling brightly. “It’s honestly cathartic to yell at him at this point.”

“Too right,” he said.

“So, do you know any good lunch places?” Jane asked.

“You want me to go get something so we can eat with him?” Jack said, sounding hopeful. He meant the tiger.

“Of course,” Jane said. “How soon do you think Darcy can come home?”

“Fairly soon, I reckon,” Jack said. “Carter’s on it.” He smiled sweetly at her. “She’ll be apples.”

“About that,” Jane said, wildly curious. “Is Brock still in love with Sharon? People say she broke his heart or something--” Jack started to laugh and Jane looked at him in surprise.

“Those two were always up and down,” he said.

“Up and down?” Jane asked, confused.

“A bit wonky, you know. Never fit right. She’s a right stickler for the rules, he likes to play it by ear. Feels stifled if he has to follow a script or a bunch of procedures--unless they make sense to him, he wants his freedom,” Jack said. “Now, things he understands--keeping his guns well-maintained, staying fit, stuff like that--he’ll do those, but he needs a good reason, you know?”

“He’s a Questioner and Sharon’s an Upholder,” Jane said. At Jack’s perplexed look, she explained. “It’s this four types thing Darcy’s obsessed with, _The Happiness Project?_ Questioners need to know the rationales for things before they’ll do them, Upholders like to follow all the rules--” Jack nodded.

“Too right,” he said. “They were always fighting, just couldn’t hack it. He tried to do things the traditional way, I think. But he wasn’t happy.”

“He’s not still in love with her?”

“Bloody hell, no. I think he was mad as a cut snake that he tried to make her happy and she didn’t give him credit for his effort—at least not as much as he wanted,” Jack said. He paused. “Said he wouldn’t settle down after that, though.”

“Oh. Yeah. Darcy knows that,” Jane said. “After Justin, she keeps saying she’ll never get married again.”

* * *

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Darcy said, blindfolded and tied to a chair. Brock was leaning over her, dabbing something on her lip. She’d changed into the bra and underwear she’d been wearing the night of the kidnapping, per his instructions---and added makeup to mimic bruises and a cut lip. She’d found Natasha’s stash.

“Stay still, I gotta make your busted lip look bigger for the camera, sweetheart,” Brock told her. “It’s not showing up well. I’m glad you found Romanoff’s makeup kit.” She could hear the amusement in his voice. He was interested in this ruse, Darcy thought. He’d been explaining the differences between Russian and Italian mafia to her, because she’d asked about Semka. She was trying not to think about how soft her belly probably looked in her current pose. Sharon Carter was in great shape. She probably had a perfectly flat stomach, just like her hair didn’t frizz. Some people were lucky like that. Not Darcy. 

“So, a _vor_ is like a godfather?” Darcy asked. He’d gone quiet.

“Yeah,” he said. “But they’re not like Italians. There’s no hierarchy, no organization--”

“Are you critiquing the Russian mob’s methodology?”

“They’ll just kill anybody,” he said. “Kill your whole family. That’s why I wanted you out of there. If they decided to fuck up Justin Hammer, you’d be in danger, too.”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“Don’t wiggle,” Brock scolded. 

“I wasn’t wiggling,” Darcy said.

“Are you trying to argue with me?” he said, sounding pleased.

“Maybe,” Darcy said, pouting her lips. “Kiss me?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“Please,” she said, making sure to wiggle her chest. She heard him chuckle and thought he’d turn her down. “Brock--” she said.

“Mmm,” he said, sounding distracted. She sensed the movement before just his lips touched hers. It was a teasing, playful kiss. Darcy leaned in, wanting more. He evaded her and she made a sad sound. “I just ruined my work,” he said wryly. She felt him dab at her face again. “We gotta get these done, Carter’s waiting on ‘em. Don’t pout,” he ordered. “Hostages don’t make sexy faces.”

“Okay,” she said. She made her face sad instead. 

“Good,” he said, snapping photos. “I’m gonna lean in with a knife, don’t move. Do not move at all.” 

“Okay,” Darcy said. He cleared his throat. She felt something cool against her body. “Oh,” she said involuntarily. “I didn’t move!” she added. 

“You tensed,” he said, mouth close to her ear. “But that looks better on camera. I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, look upset.”

“Okay,” she said. His lips brushed her face. She heard the camera clicking. Then she felt the knife drop away and then was a long, aching silence. Darcy tried to keep her expression upset. Then she felt him close in again. Brock’s lips grazed her jaw and then pressed against her neck. He was either kneeling or sitting next to her. It was impossible to tell.

“Mmm,” he said, stubble scratching her skin. “You taste good,” he said, voice smug. She was absolutely still as his mouth trailed over her shoulder. It was difficult not to react. Holding in her emotions made them more intense. He sucked on the rounded, fleshy part of her shoulder.

“Can--can I talk?” Darcy stuttered.

“Oh, yeah, you can make noise,” Brock said, after a moment. “We’re done with the photos, I sent them to Carter. You can make any sound you want.”

“Oh thank God,” Darcy said, starting to laugh from the weird tension of it. He didn’t untie her, though. He kept kissing down her arm.

“You wanna play around some more?” he said, pausing around her forearm. 

“Yes,” Darcy said. He was silent for a moment. “What is it?” she said.

“I’m thinking,” he said. “I’ll be back.” She could tell he stood up.

“Where are you _going?”_ Darcy asked.

“You’re chatty during the day,” he said, voice moving towards the kitchen. “You never talk this much when we hook up at night.” He sounded amused.

“I spend all day talking to Jane,” Darcy said. There was a long pause while he was quiet. Then she heard him returning.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

“W--what?” Darcy said, stunned for a moment.

“You heard me,” he said. “Open your mouth, _gattina.”_ She was frustrated and turned on all at once. She raked her teeth over her top lip and opened her mouth a fraction.

“Good girl,” he said. She felt it then--a spoon filled with something cool and soft in her mouth. Wet. Creamy. 

“This is...food?” Darcy said. “You’re feeding me?”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, sounding intense. “What’s it taste like?”

“Vanilla,” she said. “That’s vanilla, right? Cam brought me yogurt.”

“You’re cheating,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her chest. Darcy shivered. She thought he set down the spoon. “But I don’t mind.”

“You like this?” Darcy wondered aloud. She could feel herself turning pink as he kissed her. His hands stroked down her belly and she arched automatically. “Oh God. Why are you like this? I mean--” she stuttered, “we never talk about your preferences.”

“My preferences?” he said, sounding wry. His hands moved away. “Open up, baby.”

“I’m tied to a chair. That feels like a preference,” Darcy said, before she opened her mouth again. He fed her another spoonful. She’d never picked up this many nuances in yogurt before. She was sweating a little from nervousness.

“My preferences,” he said, as she swallowed, “aren’t that complicated, sweetheart.” She could practically hear his grin. “I like watching your face when I do things to you.” She felt him kiss her slowly again.

“Ufffhhhh,” Darcy groaned. “Unfair. Totally unfair.”

“Why?” Brock asked. 

“I don’t know, I just like to know things,” she said. “What do you like? When’d you start blind-folding everybody--”

“You’re all flushed,” he said, in that same amused voice. One of his fingers traced over her cleavage.

“I just want to know when the really scar--the other stuff starts. Are you going to spank me? Slap me?” she wondered doubtfully. Darcy paused. “I’m also really turned on right now,” she confessed. He laughed.

“Good. I’m going to find something else fun to play with,” he said. “That’s what I like. Surprising you.”

“Ugh,” Darcy groaned at his vagueness. He was so frustrating. She was so preoccupied she didn’t pay attention to his movements. She inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation of coldness and realized he was kneeling in front of her again. He’d touched her nipple through her bra with something. Ice?

“You like?” Brock said, sliding it down over her stomach and then back up again, tracing the round of her breast. The sensation was chilly and made her have goosebumps. It wasn’t ice, but she had no idea what it could be.

“Oh God,” she said. “Oh God. That feels like—it’s so much.” She was arching towards him when he suddenly clasped the back of her head with his other hand, pulling her closer. His mouth brushed against her ear. It was startling and exciting all at once.

“I’m never going to spring anything scary on you,” he said, kissing her face. “I’m not that kind of guy, baby.”

“You’re not?” she said, wondering what that meant.

“I’ll do exactly what you like.” His voice was low. She turned her head to kiss him. They’d been kissing when he spoke again. “But they do make low heat massage candles, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“Low heat?” she asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, between kisses, “made of safe things, like coconut oil. They melt slightly above body heat, you can use them as massage oils. Feels like a hot massage.”

“Oh.” She could feel him nuzzling her face. “That sounds fun.”

“You wanna have more fun?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, nodding. He stood up and she listened to him moving away again.


	7. Playing Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Oh God,” Darcy said, as Brock massaged her scalp and tugged her hair. She felt like all her nerve endings were alive. There was warm heat between her legs. “Please untie me. Please,” she begged. She wanted to get her hands on him. Her hands and her mouth. He’d been kissing and touching her until she was practically frantic with desire.

“You want me to untie you?” he said in a low, teasing voice. “All right, but let’s leave the blindfold on, huh?” She felt him untie the soft ties that bound her wrists.

“Yes,” she got out, nodding eagerly, as he released her. “I want to--” she stuttered, unable to say it without feeling like it would be hella awkward. She didn’t know how to play this role. She reached for him and he caught her hands, threading their fingers together.

“You need a little stretch,” he said, moving her arms gently.

“Mmm,” she said. The stretch felt good after being in the same position. He stretched each arm and her fingers. She felt him dot kisses on each fingertip. It was an oddly gentle gesture. Almost affectionate. Darcy was too keyed up to appreciate it as much as she would have in a less intense moment. She felt him touch her body, hands moving from her neck over her breasts and then her belly. Darcy shivered in anticipation.

“Tell me what you want, baby?” Brock asked, pausing. Darcy bit her lip.

“Will you guide me?” she said, reaching blindly for the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, voice sounding gratified. His hand cupped her face gently. “You know I will. Lemme help you with that zipper and the condom, huh?” he said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, hearing him moving. Then he took her hands and guided them around his dick. “Ohh,” she said involuntarily. He groaned. It was strange to do this blindly. Strange, but exciting.

“You’re smiling,” he said, suddenly, voice husky. “You like this.”

“Don’t be so smug,” she told him, seized by a sudden impulse to sass him, even as he directed her movements.

“I can’t help it,” he said, hand clasped over hers. “You’re so good for me--I just wanna tell everybody how fucking good I have it. Brag a little.” His tone of voice was so smoldering, she actually laughed in delight. “And wipe that fucking look off Justin Hammer’s face,” he added abruptly.

“W-what?” Darcy said, unsure if he was serious or playacting.

“I’m never letting that motherfucker call himself your daddy again, _gattina.”_

“What are you going to do?” Darcy said archly, certain he was pretending now. It was his tone. In response, he chuckled. 

“To you?” he asked, cupping her chin. “I’m going to guide you in the right direction.” She could hear his smile. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you forget Justin Hammer’s name.” _Definitely playacting,_ Darcy thought. He reached for the back of her head, leaning her forward. “There you go, sweetheart, just a little bit closer,” he said, until she felt something brush against her lips. 

Darcy was pretty sure this wasn’t the best blow job he’d ever had, but he whispered endearments and praise, groaning and swearing, until he suddenly told her to stop. “Mm--what is it?” Darcy said, still blindfolded. He’d tugged her hair and shifted to a sterner tone to get her to pull away.

“I’m taking you to bed,” he said, lifting her. She clung to him. When he’d set her gently on the mattress, he made to take off the blindfold.

“Leave it on,” Darcy said,clasping his wrist. “I like it.” She felt him hold her face in his hands for a minute, thumbs pressing into her cheeks, completely silent. “What is it?” she said, worried. The only answer was a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Lay back,” he said. She heard him swear in a low voice before she felt his weight settle and he pushed into her. All her nerve endings were tingling with anticipation as he moved. Not being able to see made everything _feel_ more, she thought. He must've read her mind. “Oh, fuck. You feel so good,” he said in a heated voice.

“Yeah,” she said, sighing in relief. He felt good to her, too. Something about her tone made him start to laugh wildly.

“Yeah?” Brock repeated. “You know how great you are, huh?” He nuzzled her face softly. 

“Maybe,” Darcy lied, sliding her hand up his back. She had been thinking of him and how he felt to her. It was fun to blindly feel all the nuances of his body. The grooves of his muscular back, the slight fuzziness of his chest and arm hair, the solidity of his thighs. He was so handsome--more than that. Not just handsome. It was too small a word, her sex-addled brain supplied. He was beguiling. She was completely smitten. 

* * *

“Hemp oil base, huh?” Brock said, picking up the massage candle. “That’s new.” He’d decided to go pick up clean clothes from his apartment when he woke up, then stopped by his favorite adult store on a whim. He’d wanted to get Darcy some of those massage candles. She’d been asleep, so he’d let her rest. She cuddled him, burrowed into the blankets, and typically conked out after sex, snoring lightly. The mental image made him smile. She was going to break him sexually and then pass out snoring like a little pug one day. 

“It’s really nice,” the sales woman told him, smiling back. Her name was Jeanie. She’d recognized him. “Melts at three degrees higher than body temperature.”

“Anything else new?” he said. He’d sent in the PTO forms for several days off last night. He had plenty of unused time off. He didn’t like the idea of Darcy being left alone at the safehouse for days on end--and if she wanted to have fun, they could have fun, too. He was trying to pace himself and not overwhelm her. The HYDRA serums made his libido stronger and it had been awhile since he spent several days in isolation with somebody. Much less someone who combined her interest in kink with a funny kind of innocence. He was having a great time. You could read every expression on her face. Darcy Lewis had no guile. It was almost sweet. Either she was the most open, straightforward person he’d ever met or he was too used to the atmosphere of constant deception and cynicism at SHIELD. And her body, Christ Almighty, he was obsessed—

“What are you looking for?” Jeanie said, calling him back to the present moment.

“Anything sensory, but low-key,” he said. “My, uh girlfriend”--he thought that was the simplest thing to call her-- “is, uh, less experienced. And she’s a little delicate. I don’t want anything too overwhelming or intense.” He wanted to make sure nothing was too scary for her.

“Oh,” Jeanie said, sounding delighted. “What about nipple clamps? That can be a good starter item. Or a little paddle?”

* * *

“Brock?” Darcy said, opening her eyes and looking around the bedroom blearily. He’d been in bed with her when she fell asleep, but she was alone now. Sunlight slanted through the blinds. Her burner phone told her it was three in the afternoon. Was he in the kitchen? Darcy got up and put on a t-shirt. She called out his name again and got no answer. That was when she realized that she was alone in the house. He’d left. There wasn’t even a note. Darcy sighed. This was what came of getting emotionally involved with astonishingly sexy, extremely capable, no-strings STRIKE team leaders. He was probably on an emergency mission somewhere far-flung. Like Laos. Or Taos. Could be either one. Southeast Asia or the American desert were equally plausible. “Oh well,” she told herself. She sat on the couch and looked around. She didn’t particularly feel like calling Jane and doing work. It was very quiet in the house. Darcy decided she would feel less abandoned if she took a shower. Then she could eat her weight in Cinnamon Toast Crunch. And sulk. She checked her phone. 

No texts. “Ughhhhhh,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes at herself. She was that girl now. She plunked down her phone and went to take a shower. Of course, she was so preoccupied, she forgot whether or not she'd used shampoo in the middle of the shower. 

* * *

“Can we get him to come in?” Maria Hill asked Jane. They were trying to get Justin to come into SHIELD of his own free will. They’d stationed Jane and the tiger in a conference room, trying to pressure Justin on the phone.

“I’m working on it,” Jane said, irritated that he wouldn’t just come in, so she could get back to the lab and her real work. Justin kept sending her calls to voicemail. Jack stuck his head into the room--he’d been drifting in and out all day--and grinned.

“You shoulda heard her screeching at ‘im earlier,” Jack said, coming to sit down. Jane made a face at Maria.

“He keeps pretending that he has people on it,” she told the other woman, clearly frustrated. 

“Which people?” Maria wondered.

“Idiots, probably,” Jane said. “Or people who got fired from Blackwater and are charging him too much money.” Maria nodded in agreement.

“I appreciate your work,” Maria told Jane. When she left, Jane raised her eyebrows at Jack. He beamed at her. They were quietly dating. Jane was taking it slow. She and Thor had rushed things, initially. That--and Odin--had led to conflict later. She was more cautious now. A little. She was determined not to end up crying on the couch again, even if Thor and Jack didn't mesh well. Andrew had been threatened by Thor, so she'd had to date them separately. Thor hadn't minded; you got more flexible at a thousand years old. But what would he think of Jack? She looked at him as he spoke.

“That's high praise, I reckon,” he said. “What’d you like for dinner?”

“About that,” she said. “Dinner. Not tonight, but in general. Dinners.” Jane took a breath. “Thor is coming back from Asgard in a few days. I’d like you to have dinner with him. So you can meet, see how you get along. You're under no obligation--”

“No worries,” Jack said. “She'll be apples.”

“I have no idea what that means, but I hope it's good?” Jane said. He nodded.

“What's he going to think of the little ‘un?” Jack said. Inside his playpen, the tiger staged an impromptu attack on a dangling cat toy. Jack had gone to a pet store and purchased a metal exercise pen and some cat toys at lunch. He was worried Elvis wasn't getting proper enrichment activities.

“Oh, he's going to love him,” she said.

* * *

Brock left the shop carrying a bag of fun stuff and got in his car. He was driving back towards the safe house when it occurred to him that Darcy might want coffee. She loved coffee. He’d stop at a coffee shop. He stopped at a coffee shop that he knew from work—they’d used it as a meet for undercover jobs, oddly enough. The original owner had been convicted of money laundering. But the employees were nice people. He was almost tempted to call Darcy, but he decided to surprise her instead. Take a gamble. His instinct was to present her with the gifts as a surprise. He smiled to himself as he pulled into a parking space.

Brock was exiting the coffee shop with a black coffee and some sort of raspberry chocolate latte when someone spoke behind him. “Do not fucking move,” a voice said. He heard them take the safety off. Another man appeared in front of him, on the other side of his SUV’s hood.

“This is Mancuso?” he said. “The one Hammer wants?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Brock said. He sighed. “C’mon. Let’s have a rational discussion,” he began, setting the coffee down on the car hood. The man behind him chortled.

“Rational discussion?” he said. That was all the opportunity Brock needed to reach backwards, disarm him, and slam his head into the car’s door frame. The other guy he had to chase down the adjacent alley. When he returned, cuffing each one and searching them for weapons, he realized the coffee tray had slid onto the ground.

“Shit,” he said. “Do you know how expensive goddamn lattes are?” Then he called Carter. He needed someone to pick them up. He was hanging up with her when one of the men shifted. “No,” he barked. “None of that shit.” They were small time criminals, she’d told him. Also, that SHIELD was picking up Hammer. But he had to wait for someone with a transport vehicle for these two. “If my fucking candles melt in the car,” he muttered. The second guy looked at him, clearly puzzled. “This is my day off,” Brock grumbled. He should call Darcy, he thought. Tell her where he was. These things always took hours.

* * *

Darcy was poking at cereal with a spoon when her phone rang. It was Brock. “Hi,” she said, endeavoring to sound cool. “You get called away?” She’d taken a shower and was futzing around the safe house, trying to combat her boredom.

“No,” he said, sighing. “I was getting clothes and stopping to get you coffee and just ran into some people.” He huffed. 

“Oh,” she said, pleased it sounded he was coming back. “You got me coffee?”

“There was an attempt,” he said dryly.

“An attempt?” Darcy said, puzzled.

“Sharon,” he said suddenly. “Can I get the hell out of here? I’ve got PTO in for the day.”

“Sharon‘s there?” Darcy asked, startled. Had he met Sharon?

“There was a minor incident. No big deal,” Brock said ambiguously.

“Oh,” she said. He sounded distracted. She wondered if she should ask more questions? He started talking. But not to her.

“Sharon,” he was complaining, “I’ve got stuff in my trunk that’ll melt and she’s by herself.” Her irritated-sounding reply was audible to Darcy. 

“Can you just sit still for five minutes? I’ve got reporting requirements. We all know you want to leave and get back to your new girlfriend. We’re hurrying, horny idiot,” she said.

“I am not. And that’s unprofessional,” Brock began. “What is it?” Darcy had squeaked a little. Involuntarily. It was the prospect of everyone at work knowing about them. “What's wrong?” Brock said.

“People at work think I’m your girlfriend?” she breathed out, almost dropping her spoon.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “You know how gossip is.” He sounded chagrined. “You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “I’m okay.” Internally, her mind was going _oh shit oh shit oh shit--_

“Can I talk to Darcy?” she heard Sharon say.

“Yeah--hold on, don’t snatch the damn phone,” Brock said. After a moment, Sharon came on the line.

“Sorry,” Sharon said. “Darcy--”

“Hi,” Darcy said.

“We’re applying pressure to Justin,” Sharon said. “But I think we’ll need to send your necklace with another fake ransom demand.”

“That’s fine,” Darcy said. “Send it, go ahead.” She was trying to sound encouraging. She absolutely did not care about the necklace. She was vastly more curious about Brock and Sharon being together.

“I was going to hold it back as an emotional leverage tool, but he’s refusing to come into the office,” Sharon said grimly. “I can’t believe how _lousy_ he is.”

“This is why I divorced him,” Darcy cracked. At the same time, Brock spoke.

“Don’t upset her, Sharon,” he scolded, clearly eavesdropping. “Give me back my phone--” 

“No,” Sharon said. “Go sit next to your abductors.”

“His what?” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“Justin put out a bounty on Mancuso, so these two low level guys tried to take him in at a coffee shop,” Sharon explained.

“What?” Darcy said, horrified.

“I handled it,” she heard Brock say, “but the fuckers got your coffee. Give me the phone.”

“Fuckdoodles,” Darcy said slowly.

“Dammit, Sharon--”

“Fine,” Sharon said. “Thank you, Darcy.”

“You're welcome?” Darcy said, uncertain.

“It's not a big deal,” he said, taking back the phone. “But I'm gonna be fucking pissed if the massage oil candles are all melted.”

“What?”

“I stopped to get some,” he said. 

“You got those?” Darcy said, grinning to herself. He'd gone out for coffee and naughty presents, not to meet Sharon? He was fun. _Ugh_ , a small voice in her head whispered, _she was going to be so wrecked when he got bored with her._

“I got some other stuff, too,” he added in a low voice. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, thrilled. She paused. “If they're all melted, maybe we can put them in the fridge?”

“That's a good idea,” Brock said, sounding delighted.

“I've got other ideas,” she said quietly. Darcy didn't know why she was whispering. It felt right to? Also, she was totally going to google things to do in bed when they hung up. Possibly she had no idea what she was talking about and was just winging it to impress him.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of ideas?” he said lasciviously. “Tell me.”

“Oh dear God,” Darcy heard Sharon say out loud.

“When you get back?” she whispered, reaching for her laptop. “We can talk about what you like.”

“You’re gonna kill me,” Brock said. “You want another raspberry mocha?”

“You got me raspberry mocha?” Darcy said, feeling an odd bubble of happiness. “Sexy candles and raspberry mocha?” It was such a juxtaposition of normalcy and this weird thing they were in.

“Yeah,” he said.

* * *

“Hey, I know you--you’re Tony Stark’s, uh, hot assistant. What’s your name? Nicole?” Justin said, snapping his fingers at Romanoff. “What are you doing here?”

“Seriously?” Jane said. She’d been walking him to Hill when Natasha fell in with them.

“Charming, Mr. Hammer,” Natasha said.

“What? Oh, she’s not Stark’s assistant?” Justin asked.

“No,” Jane snapped.

“You used to be friendlier,” Justin told the scientist. He looked at Natasha. “Nicole, you were friendlier, too--” he began, when Jane wheeled on him and seized the front of his suit.

“Justin!” she yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby. “We are going to find Darcy and we are going to get her home, or I will beat you to death with Captain America’s shield!” She shook his lapels a little.

“Yeah, yeah,” Justin said. “That’s why I’m here, all right? I’m here to help find Darcy. They walked several feet, catching glances. “She is my wife after all,” he added. “I’m sure Mancuso hasn’t hurt her. He’s an okay guy. I mean, he’s mafia, but they don’t usually hurt wives, right?” Jane glared at him and silently marched ahead. He looked at Natasha and leaned closer. “She can’t actually hit me with Captain America’s shield, can she? That’s probably illegal, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Cap’s shield,” Natasha said. He brightened.

“Good, great,” Justin said.

“There are worse things I could hit you with,” she said.

“Nicole, that’s just mean,” Justin whined. “I’m the grieving spouse.” At that, Jane froze, whirled around, and slapped Justin across the face. The _smack_ was audible.

“Darcy isn’t dead,” she said.

* * *

She met him at the door, then regretted it immediately. Did she look overeager? But Brock beamed at her. “Hi,” he said. He’d almost lit up a little. He was carrying shopping bags and a coffee cup. “I got your latte.” As she took it, Darcy’s eyes trailed down his body.

“You’re bleeding!” she said. There was blood on his shirt. She set down the coffee cup in alarm. He glanced down. 

“Not my blood, sweetheart,” he said, setting down the bags. “I’m going to get out of this, take a shower, but no looking at your presents without me.” He pulled off his shirt. Darcy was staring at his torso and nodding.

“Yes,” she said, biting her lip. He grinned. Brock pulled her against him, chuckling. 

“Sorry I was late,” he said. He started dotting kisses on her face, backing her towards the shower. “You wanna take a shower with me?”

“I already had one,” she said. “And I have this latte to drink and presents to not look at.” He scrunched his nose.

“You playing hard to get?” Brock asked.

“Possibly,” Darcy lied, leaning forward to kiss his chin. He looked down at her. “You have gorgeous eyes,” she said. “So pretty.”

“You think my eyes are pretty?” he said. She nodded.

“They look like tiger’s eye,” Darcy said. He seemed to find that funny.

“Bath?” he countered.

“Okay,” she said happily. “Just let me bring the coffee.” She slipped out of his embrace and he moved to the bathroom. Darcy followed him. He was turning on the bathwater when he looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Darcy?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“What do you like?” he asked.

“You mean sexually?” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, grinning. “Other stuff. What do you do when we’re not together?”

 _“Oh,”_ Darcy said. “I do...stuff?” Her mind had gone strangely blank at the unexpected question.

“We’ll talk about it in the tub,” Brock said. “C’mere.”


	8. The World's Nakedest Job Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

The slosh of the water when she settled in between Brock’s legs seemed noisy to Darcy. “Whoops,” she said, glancing back at him. He’d helped her into the tub and eased her down in front of him. 

“Hmmm,” he said, squeezing her. She could feel his fingers kneading at her sides.

“Please tell me that's not my back fat you're hanging onto,” she joked, trying to diffuse her own self-consciousness. She was so pale and fleshy compared to his tanned, lean,  _ perfect _ body, she thought, looking at her knee as it leaned against his. Brock was stunning. Darcy felt a little swoony whenever she saw him naked. But the sight of her own soft, white thighs juxtaposed with his was awkward. She'd been blindfolded so often, she'd sort of forgotten how they looked together. Even his legs were muscled and perfectly tanned. She was so pale, she felt ghostly. Did her skin always look like that?

“Huh?” Brock said, sounding amused.

“Back fat?” she repeated. He snorted.

“Baby,” he said in her ear, “I'm helpless to resist you and your beautiful body.” It was a great line, she thought. He’d practically purred it. The sentence was accompanied by another squeeze.

“Uh-huh.” Darcy bit her lip.

“Yeah,” he said. The water sloshed as he held her.

“Lemme wash your hair?” Darcy offered, turning. She was trying to change the subject. He grinned.

“You wanna wash my hair?”

“Why not? It's good hair,” Darcy told him.

“Sure.” She took the detachable shower sprayer from its hook by the faucet and playfully sprayed him. “Hey! Cut it the fuck out,” Brock grumbled, flicking water off his face. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, grinning. “Lean forward.” She wet his hair gently, stroking her fingers over his scalp. “Shampoo me, Commander,” she added, holding out her palm for some. He obliged. She raked the shampoo through his hair massaging gently. He groaned. “You like?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “God, that feels so fucking good.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. It was fun for her, too. She just liked touching him. He had his eyes closed as the suds ran down his neck and back. He had a beautiful neck, she thought dreamily. Darcy took her time. Finally, he opened his eyes. 

“Do I get some damn conditioner or what?” Brock asked.

“Shut up,” Darcy said laughing. She'd combed cream through his hair and leaned back against him when he spoke again.

“Tell me what you like to do,” he said in a low voice. That question again. She couldn't think of anything to impress him.

“Well, um--” she paused. “You really want to know?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t,” he said. There was an edge of something like sarcasm in his voice. She frowned, looking forward. He was behaving so weirdly. 

“I take care of Jane,” she said.

“You like your job?’ Brock asked. Darcy realized he was dotting kisses in her hair. There was something tender and intimate about it, at odds with his voice. He raked his fingers over her back and shoulders. 

“I like taking care of things and people,” she admitted. “I bake--”

“Yeah?”

“I like desserts,” she added. “And books. Visiting weird museums. Trying new restaurants. Coffee--”

“I guessed that one,” he said, pushing aside some damp strands of her hair to kiss her neck. She shivered and then felt him smile and suck at her skin. 

“Hey,” she said, giggling. “That tickles!” He laughed. 

“What else do you like?” he asked, voice husky. “Besides me?”

“Bold of you to assume I actually like--ahhhh,” Darcy said. “You pinched me, you asshole.” She turned to glare at him, sending a swell of water against his body. Brock was smirking. “What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

“You wanna go some new places when we get rid of Hammer?” he said, expression unreadable.

“New places?” Darcy said, confused.

“Restaurants, coffee shops, whatever,” he said. She stared at him, surprised.

“You want to go places with me?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah. Sure,” Brock said. He pulled her closer. “C’mere. Don’t wiggle.” Virtually trapped in his arms, Darcy wiggled vengefully. He snorted and kissed the side of her face.

“Those sound like dates,” she said, as he kissed her noisily. One of her boobs was being squished against his arm. She didn’t hate it. “Are you asking me on dates?” She made her voice incredulous. “I didn’t think you went on dates, Brock Rumlow.” He stopped planting obnoxious kisses in her hair and blinked at her. 

“I don’t,” he said. “Not usually. But, uh--” He frowned. Blinked again.

“Yeah?” Darcy asked.

“Let’s go on dates,” he said.

“Okay,” she said slowly. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she didn’t want to question it. She should be normal. Chill even. A cool girl. What would a chill girl say? “Wait, let me get my latte,” she said, deciding the best reaction was a non-reaction. The latte was on the floor outside the tub. She'd been sipping it.

“I feel like you should be more excited,” he said, as he let her go. 

“I’m very excited about my latte,” she said, sloshing around. He was going to get a good look at her whole, entire ass, but he’d probably seen it all before, right? She leaned over the tub.

“I meant about being my girlfriend,” he said. “You should be excited about being my girlfriend.” He managed to make it sound a little pouty. She was so startled, she almost knocked over the cup. It took her a moment to recover. Darcy turned back as she retrieved the coffee. He was pouting, she realized, feeling a strange thrill. He wanted to date?!  _ He wanted to date! _

“I am,” she said, grinning. “I’m very excited about possibly being your girlfriend, once I’m officially divorced. Really excited.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. 

“What?” Darcy said, resettling against him. She sipped her latte with a happy smile. 

“I forgot you were still married to that asshole,” he said, sighing. “Latte good?”

“Excellent,” she told him, feeling giddy. He was actually that into her? 

“Tell me some other things you like,” he said, running his hands over her body.

“Besides you?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded pleased.

“I can’t think of anything,” Darcy said. 

“Nothing?” Brock said.

“This feels like the world’s nakedest job interview,” she said out loud. “I can never think of what to say during those.” He chuckled.   
  


* * *

“A guy named Jimmy Mancuso took Darcy?” Maria Hill said, pretending to take notes.

“Yup. Yeah. Jimmy. Italian guy. I think he has connections with the Genovese crime family,” Justin said. “Those were his guys, I’m sure. Almost.”

“Almost sure or totally sure?” Natasha asked, sitting next to Maria with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like they introduced themselves before they bruised my sternum,” Justin said. “I’ve still got the marks.” His voice was petulant. “C’mon, Nicole!”

“Can you give us a list of  _ all  _ possible kidnappers?” Maria asked. “Every possible suspect?” He paused. Justin sighed heavily and put his face in his hands. Natasha watched him cannily. She nodded at Maria.

“Do you want Darcy to be found?” Maria asked. She slid a set of photos across the table. “It’s been a long time, Mr. Hammer. Plenty of things could go wrong--”

“What the fuck is this?” Justin said, staring at the images. 

“Images from our last mob-related SHIELD case,” Maria supplied crisply. “HYDRA was also involved.”

“I’m gonna vomit,” Justin said. He bolted upright and then dry-heaved in the corner. Maria looked at Natasha. Natasha winked. She’d had some of the agents in Technical be made up as murder victims. They’d gotten really into it. The fake brain matter was really impressive.

“So,” Maria said, when Justin slumped back into the chair. “Mancuso and--?”

“The Russians,” Justin said. “And--I’m not sure here, but I think--”

“What? Every moment counts,” Natasha said.

“I think HYDRA might be a buyer for, uh, some of my stuff,” Justin said. “Fuck. This is a nightmare.” 

* * *

Brock was still a little fixated when they got out of the tub. Darcy found herself wrapped in a big towel and settled next to him in bed. “There’s nothing you like, besides baking and work?” he said.

“Hmm. I like music?” she offered. “All kinds of music.”

“Yeah?” he said, smiling. 

“Politics,” she added. 

“Really?” 

“I was a political science major,” she said. “I’ve actually watched C-Span.”

“No shit,” Brock said. “People watch C-Span?”

“Shut up. We need better cameras on the Senate floor, everything’s far away and that’s bad for television,” Darcy said. “I’ve written letters.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Brock told her.

“Nope,” she said. “The Senate majority leader always sends me back a form letter. I really question his commitment to voter engagement.” He started to laugh. “You’re regretting the girlfriend thing, huh?” she asked, keeping her voice light.

“No,” he said, putting one muscular arm behind his head and looking at her. “I’m just trying to figure you out.” He made a perplexed face. “How does somebody who watches fucking C-Span end up married to Justin goddamned Hammer?”

“Lots and lots of champagne,” Darcy said, laughing.

“C’mon, there’s no fucking way--” Brock began, shaking his head.

“He was my one thing,” she insisted. “My one big crazy thing!”

“Baby, you nailed me on our first date,” Brock said. “That’s more than one crazy thing--”

“Excuse me, that was  _ not _ a date,” Darcy said. “We haven’t been on a date yet. We’ve done drinks and sex things and hiding me from Justin.” She looked at him, grinning. “So there,” she said. He was staring at her. 

“Sex things?” Brock repeated, grinning.

“I don't feel qualified to call myself a bondage person,” she said. “It seems too...technical?”

“Technical?” he said, voice wry. She pulled a face.

“Like I'm pretending to know more than I do.”

“It's not like you get a damn certificate,” Brock said. “Nobody knows what they're doing--what's funny?’

“Maybe you could give me a certificate and I could make you up some sex coupons,” Darcy joked, between giggles. 

“Sure,” he said. “C’mere.” He wanted her closer. Darcy wiggled over, sighing happily. He grinned.

“What?” she asked.

“Sex coupons,” he said, snorting. “I’ll make you up that certificate, sweetheart.” 

“I would like that,” she said. They were curled up together and he was kissing her forehead when Darcy decided to put it all out there.

“There’s one thing I want to ask you,” she said. “It’s maybe not a big deal, but I’m tired of worrying about it.”

“Yeah?” he said, blinking.

“I hope it doesn’t, like, upset you and make you not want to do sex things,” she added. He was still staring, expression blank. She took a deep breath. “Everyone at work says you’re still in love with Sharon,” she told him. “So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to behave when the three of us are around each other. Are you still in love with Sharon?” Darcy asked.


	9. A Simple Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

There was a long pause as he blinked at her. Darcy waited. Finally, he spoke. “Fuck,” Brock said. “You cannot ask me shit like that.” He frowned and huffed. “I mean--fuck, Lewis. Fuck!”

“You’re calling me Lewis now?” Darcy said, feeling her eyebrows go up at the volley of fucks. Normally, she was okay with fucks. She was fucktacular. She was a lady who said fuck. But this seemed a little overdone for the situation. She looked at him. He was absolutely not taking the question well. In fact, he wasn’t meeting her eyes. He was staring at his feet as if he didn’t understand what they were underneath the sheets. Abruptly, he swung his legs out of the bed and grabbed a pair of pants off the floor. “Brock?” she prompted.

“C’mon,” he said. The lines of his shoulders were tense. “I can’t fucking believe this job,” he muttered. Then he said something too low for her to hear. Or at least she thought she’d misheard? 

“What?” she said. As she watched, he got dressed without looking at her. 

“Are you actually _ leaving?” _ she said. Darcy was stunned. He didn’t reply at first. “You asshole!” she called out, angry that he was behaving like a child. She’d had her fill of childish men with Justin. Brock stopped and half-turned back to her, grimacing. 

“I gotta go,” he said flatly. “I can’t--I can’t do it. I thought I could. I can’t.” He disappeared down the hallway. Darcy stared for a moment, then decided she couldn’t just sit there as he left the house. She got up, put on a robe, and followed him into the kitchen. He was getting his car keys. She crossed her arms.

“It’s a simple enough question,” Darcy began, “do you still love her? If you say  _ yes _ , I can manage my--” Her sentence was truncated by Brock leaving the house. 

“Lock this,” he muttered. She stared as the front door shut behind him with a  _ click. _ Darcy made a frustrated sound, feeling like a kicked puppy. She was alone now. 

“If you say yes, I can manage my expectations,” Darcy finished, locking the door with an angry little flourish. She mimed kicking at the door. “Asshole!”

* * *

She stomped around the safe house for awhile, feeling cranky and irritable. Tried to read. Tried to eat. Nothing seemed to work. Reading made her mind drift to Brock and eating made her feel nauseous. She was either queasy or pissed off. Then there was a knock. “You better be ready to apologize!” Darcy yelled. She assumed it was Brock, but when she peered through the peephole, she saw a flash of red. It was Natasha. “Hello,” Darcy said, feeling deflated.

“Are you all right?” Natasha asked.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “Rumlow is being a jerk. A grade-A, top-level jerk.”

“I see,” Natasha said coolly. 

“Argh! I was just trying to be a grown up and he just--he just,” Darcy said, waving her arms around. “Why are men?” 

“Why are men what?” Natasha repeated, frowning slightly.

“Why are men period,” Darcy repeated, shaking her head. “I’m swearing them off. I’ll have cats--”

“You do have a cat,” Natasha pointed out.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “I’m cursed. I forgot about the tiger!”

“I’m fairly sure Rollins is taking care of him,” Natasha said, sitting down on the couch as Darcy paced. 

“What happens when Rollins realizes that Brock and I are broken up?” Darcy muttered in a low voice.

“I don’t think that will be a problem--you’re broken up?” Natasha asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. It’s not like we were ever together,” she said. “Not together together.” She did another circle of the living room and realized Natasha was still watching her. “Is something wrong with Justin?” Darcy asked, finally sitting down on the sofa.

“No,” Natasha said. “I have good news--I came to tell you that he’s given us all his information, so you’re free to go home.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, torn between relief and an odd pang of regret. “Really?” She looked at Natasha.

“Yes,” the agent said gently. “We’ve got attorneys sorting your divorce out and we’ve got Justin moved to a SHIELD safe house--”

“He thinks he’s in danger?” Darcy said.

“He’s very gullible,” Natasha said. “He keeps calling me Nicole.”

“Extremely,” Darcy said, beginning to giggle. “Oh my God!” She covered her face with her hands and shook with laughter. It was possibly a nervous reaction, but she didn’t care. “So, does he think I’m dead or something?”

“No,” Natasha said. She tilted her head. “Would you like to be?” She was smiling now.

“Dead?” Darcy said. “Not presently, but I’ll keep you posted. How--how would I even be dead?”

“We fake your death and give you a new, husband-free identity at work, he stays out of your hair,” she explained.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She scrunched her nose. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” she admitted. She looked around the room. “I can leave now?”

“Yes,” Natasha said.

“Can you give me a ride home?” Darcy asked. "After I get dressed, I mean."

* * *

“Jane,” Darcy said, coming through the door at home, “I’m back and I’m thinking about being dead after I kill Rum--oh, hello.” She’d walked in on a meal, evidently. Thor, Jane and Jack Rollins were sitting at the dinner table. There was soft music and little tea lights. Someone had cooked. Or done delivery. 

“Hullo,” Jack said placidly.

“Darcy!” Thor said. 

“You’re back!” Jane said. Darcy registered that Jane’s cheeks were pink before she was enveloped in a gigantic Thor hug.

“Hey, my bro,” she said.

“I have missed you, little sister,” he said. “We are having a most pleasant date. You should join us--”

“No, no,” Darcy said, doing jazz hands. “I don’t wanna interrupt. You guys have fun. I’m just getting my car keys and changing into my own clothes and saying hi to Elvis.” She looked around. In the corner, the tiger was chewing on an enormous bone. A raw bone, she registered, feeling a little  _ ugh _ at the sight. She was not touching that. 

“I’ve got him on a raw diet now,” Jack said, sounding serious.

“That seems...appropriate?” Darcy said, nodding. “Did Justin’s guy not turn up?”

“He looked like a bad ‘un,” Jack said. Darcy nodded.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Darcy said.

“Jack’s really good with him,” Jane cut in, gazing at him besottedly.

“That’s great, ‘cause I really don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” Darcy admitted. 

“We shall find a way,” Thor said, patting her comfortingly. “Worry not.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Okay.” She tried to exhale calmly. “Thank you all for holding down the fort. I’m going to put on my comfy pants and get out of your hair.”

“You really don’t have to go,” Jane said.

“Don’t worry about me!” Darcy said, attempting to be breezy. She hurried to her room, changed as quickly as she could, and practically bolted out of the door. “Don’t wait up, Mom!” she called jokingly over Jane’s protestations that she really should stay. “Bye, guys! Bye, Elvis!”

“Bye,” three voices chorused back. They at least had the decency to seem like they were sorry to see her go, she thought, shutting the apartment door and locking it.

  
  


* * *

“Well,” Darcy said out loud, sitting in her car in the apartment’s parking lot. “What the hell do I do now?” she wondered. She tapped the steering wheel and sighed. She just needed a distraction. First, Darcy went to a coffee shop and had a caramel latte and scrolled through her phone for an hour, trying to keep herself from seething about Brock. Then, she decided to go to a movie. Usually, a giant tub of popcorn and a darkened theater were enough to keep her from anxiety-spiraling. She silenced her phone. There were no messages from Brock.


	10. Not In The Mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was munching on popcorn and staring at the screen when someone edged down the aisle towards her seat. “Sweetheart?” a familiar voice said. Startled, she jumped--and spilled her popcorn.

“Shit,” she exclaimed, catching the bag. She looked at him. “What are you doing here?” she hissed at Brock.

“I was looking for you,” he whispered. “You weren’t at the house--”

“I left,” she said shortly. “Justin’s cooperating.”

“Shhhh,” someone in the theater said. Brock turned to glare at them and then looked back at Darcy.

“Can we go somewhere and talk about, uh--?” he began, but she shook her head. 

“I paid for this movie,” she told him. “I want to see how it ends.” He looked bent out of shape about it, but even more glum when the usher showed up to kick him out for not buying a ticket. “You snuck in?” Darcy said, too-loudly. Brock huffed and attempted to talk his way out of it by flashing his badge, but the usher was insistent.

“Shhhhh!” another movie-goer said when he protested too loudly. Darcy was grinning when he stomped off to pay eight dollars for a movie that would end in twety minutes or so. By the time he came back, the movie’s climatic scene was blaring. He sat down next to her with a sigh. 

“You want Raisinettes?” he offered quietly, holding out a box.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She thought this might be a peace offering. She kept her eyes on the screen. When the lights went up, the couple sitting behind them stared at him. Brock gave them a dark look as they moved out of the theater, then turned his head when Darcy folded over her popcorn bag. She was taking the leftovers home, she’d decided, stashing the Raisinettes in her messenger bag and sliding it over one shoulder. She looked at him. “How’d you find me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Work, uh, put a tracker on your car,” he said slowly, like the words were being pulled out of him by force. 

“You bugged my car?” Darcy said.

“And, uh, your keychain,” he added.

“Oh my God!” Darcy said.

“It was for safety,” he said. “Your safety. You know women keep their keys on ‘em. Are you leaving?” She’d stood up and moved to the aisle.

“The movie’s over,” she said. “So, yeah, I’m leaving.” She had no idea where she was going. SHIELD would, apparently. That was irritating, even if she understood it intellectually. 

“Darcy, hold on,” he said from somewhere behind her. She glanced back at Brock and then crossed her arms, pausing at the bottom of the aisle. She looked at him expectantly. “I’m not in love with Sharon, all right? She’s my ex. She dumped me,” he said. His voice was aggrieved. 

“That doesn’t sound uninvolved,” Darcy said dryly. He sighed.

“Does she grate on my nerves sometimes? Sure,” he said, moving to open the exit door for her. He kept talking as they walked down the hallway towards the lobby, passing movie posters and cutouts. “It’s, uh, not the easiest thing to do, working with an ex,” Brock said. “But I’m fucking over it. Have been for a long time.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, not believing him for a second. 

“I just wasn’t expecting that to be the question,” he said. He stopped. “I’m sorry. I thought you were going to ask me for something for you. You blindsided me.” Darcy looked at him.

“Something for me?” she said quizzically. They walked through the lobby.

“You know, dating stuff,” he said, shrugging. 

“Like what?” she said, opening the door to the parking lot.

“I dunno, nice restaurants?” Brock said. “I thought you’d want me to take you somewhere or buy you something.”

“No,” Darcy said. She grinned. “I know you’re not Justin.” She thought that would make him lighten up a little, but instead he frowned.

“What’s that mean?” he said, chin jutting out. “I’m not Justin?”

“He buys things to get people to like him,” she said. 

“Oh.” She stopped again. “What is it?” he said.

“This is my car,” she told him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Right.” She looked at him. 

“Well--”

“You want to come back to my place?” Brock offered.

“Tonight?” Darcy said.

“Follow me home,” he said. 

* * *

She texted Jane from her parking space.  _ Going to Brock’s. He found me at the movies. Hope you’re having a great night.  _ She ended the text with a string of eggplant emojis, then backed out of the space. Brock was idling in the parking lot. She did follow him, but he didn’t go the route she expected. Ahead of her, Brock made a right and she turned, too. “What are you doing?” Darcy wondered aloud. He stopped at a Target. She pulled in next to him and rolled down her window. “What are we doing here?” she asked.

“I need condoms,” he said. She gaped at him. 

“Oh, you think I’m having sex with you?” she shot back, before she could even think. He sighed.

“I thought you might need pajamas or a damn toothbrush, too,” he said. 

“Uh-huh,” she said. She got out of the car and shut her door forcefully. “A toothbrush,” she repeated skeptically. He looked at her, then smirked slowly. “What?” Darcy said, as they walked through the automatic doors.

“You like me,” Brock said. “You followed me here.”

“I don’t like you as much as you like you,” she snarked, getting a shopping cart. She got a toothbrush and a nightshirt and then followed him to the condom aisle. “Don’t they have littler ones?” she said, in a mock airhead voice. He grimaced at her.

“You’re fucking with me,” Brock said.

“Me?” Darcy said. “Never. I would never do that--or walk out on you.” He put his hands on the shopping cart and looked at her seriously.

“I fucked up,” he said. “I fuck up sometimes. I’m sorry.” His voice was sincere. “You gonna let this become a big deal that hurts us or can you let it go?”

“You think there’s an us?” Darcy said, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. And you’re clearly upset, because you’re being all sarcastic and shit. But I am sorry.” He looked at her. She realized he was waiting for an answer. It was startling. She felt all kinds of emotions at once and had to take a moment before she could talk. Her eyes raked along the aisle, past the pregnancy tests and the Trojan boxes. She couldn’t believe he was apologizing here.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “It happened, you apologized, I am capable of forgiving you, we’re in Target. What now?” she asked.

“You want anything else?” Brock said. “Chocolate?” Darcy started to laugh. “What?” he said.

“You’re better at getting me to not be mad at you than I realized,” she said. He smirked slowly.

“You want some ice cream?” he asked. 

  
  


* * *

“Oh God,” Darcy said, rocking slightly on his couch. She was on her hands and knees. They’d barely gotten the ice cream in the freezer before he started kissing her. Palming at her. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom. Brock’s hands dug into her skin as he moved in and out of her. He seemed wild and slightly out of control.

“Fuck,” he swore. He was being rougher than what she was used to; she felt him come and then collapse on top of her, groaning. His weight was enough to sink her into the sofa fabric. “Sorry,” he murmured, face against her neck. He towed her over as he moved onto his side, slipping his arms around her belly. One hand reached down and cupped between her legs. Darcy breathed slowly, eyes closed. She felt oddly untethered. She was dimly aware of Brock kissing her lightly, lips in her hair.

“You’re so warm,” she said, sighing. She needed to get up, she thought. Darcy wiggled. 

“Don’t leave,” he said.

“I gotta pee,” she said. 

“Lemme go with you,” Brock said. He helped her up and they stumbled into the bathroom. “I need to clean you up.”

“This isn’t weird at all,” Darcy said, as he kissed her gently and dropped to his knees. “Not even a little bit.” 

“You’re making it weird,” he said, cleaning off her thighs carefully. His expression was serious. He dropped a kiss on her knee. “You tired?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. She was actually exhausted, she realized.

“Come to bed,” he said.

“Just give me a minute alone, I need a sec for girl stuff,” Darcy said. He nodded. At least she could pee alone. She washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild and her makeup smudged. She looked crazy. “What am I doing?” Darcy said aloud. She splashed some water on her face to get rid of the mascara smears.

“What, babygirl?” Brock called.

“Nothing,” she said, when she emerged. She crawled into bed, yawning.

“Did you wanna talk about anything?” he said.

“Shhh,” Darcy said. She was absolutely not in the mood to talk.


	11. Crime & Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

_“Baby,”_ Justin whined on her voicemail, _“I wanna see you. I need to see you. This whole kidnapping and the indictment thing, it’s a bump in the road. Or, not a bump in the road”_ \--Darcy heard him snap his fingers-- _“it’s a test of our relationship, yeah--that’s it, baby--”_

“Damn it,” Darcy muttered, hitting delete. Darcy had decided not to fake her death--to Natasha’s disappointment--and filed for divorce instead. It was transmitted to Justin that she was still alive and not interested in seeing him around the same time he was federally indicted for illegal arms sales. She thought that would be the end of it. But that had been two weeks ago and he was still calling.

“Justin?” Jane said.

“Of course,” Darcy said. 

“Sorry,” Jane said apologetically. “Why don’t we get Thor to hit him?”

“No, that’s okay,” Darcy said. “I really don’t want to encourage him with attention.” She was sort of lying to Jane; Jane, Thor, and Jack were so happy together, Darcy didn’t want to interrupt their bubble of joy. They were all in the giddy, giggling stage of besottedness. Darcy was happy for them, even though she really missed sleep. Three people having loud, enthusiastic sex every night and a growing tiger kept her awake.

“Okay,” Jane said. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Darcy lied. 

“When is Brock coming back to town?” Jane asked. Brock had been sent out on a separate mission with Natasha and Cap and part of STRIKE Alpha while Jack stayed behind, training a new class of SHIELD agents and minded the tiger.

“I--we haven’t talked about it,” Darcy said.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” Jane said, grinning.

“What?” Darcy said. 

“Jack says he’s very into you, obviously,” Jane said, sounding happy.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Yeah. Well, it’s very intense.” Darcy didn’t know why she was lying, except that it felt so heavy. Too heavy to talk about. Darcy had no idea what was happening between her and Brock. Since that night at Target, they hadn’t really talked about anything. He’d been working a lot. When they saw each other, he typically dragged her to bed and then fell asleep immediately. She hadn’t objected, either. After that disastrous attempt to talk about Sharon, she didn’t want to start anything. She yawned. 

“That’s my fault, isn’t it?” Jane said.

“Maybe,” Darcy admitted.

“I’ll try to keep it down tonight,” Jane said. Darcy had a thought. She picked up her phone.

“Natasha’s out of town, too, right?” Darcy asked. 

“Yeah,” Jane said. Darcy texted her.

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Can I stay at your place while you’re out of town?

**Redheaded Woman:** Of course.

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I love the new screenname. Jean Harlow?

**Redheaded Woman:** Yes. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Thank you so much. I really, really appreciate it.

“I’m staying at Nat’s,” Darcy said. “Justin won’t be able to find me there.”

“Especially since he’d be looking for Nicole,” Jane said archly. Even Darcy laughed at that. She had to get control of her laughter when she remembered a crucial detail.

“Jack’ll tiger-sit for me, right?” Darcy asked. They were giving the tiger to a zoo. Jack had the decency to try and seem good with it, even though he and Thor clearly wanted to keep Elvis.

“Yes,” Jane said, before she could get the words out. “I caught him tearing up this morning. Telling him to be a good boy for his keepers.”

“That’s very sweet,” Darcy said, trying not to be jealous that they clearly communicated with each other. “What do you want for lunch?”

“I thought we could go downstairs and eat,” Jane said happily. That was code for _makeout with Thor and Jack in the cafeteria._

“Okay,” Darcy said. 

* * *

That was how she ended up sitting at a table with Thor, Jack, and Jane, plus Cameron, Jen from the Archives, and Michonne from HR. Everyone was casting significant glances at the throuple. Darcy caught Michonne’s grin at Jen. “We hear your place is a hotbed of activity,” Michonne said archly. Cam choked on his drink.

“Not my bed,” Darcy said, tilting her head. God, she missed Brock. Which was stupid. Were they even together? He'd made boyfriend noises, but could she trust him?

“That’s what we wanted to ask you,” Jen whispered.

“What?” Darcy stuttered, wondering if they were going to ask about her roommates' poly situation. “About them?” she said. Jen shook her head.

“Girl, we want to know if you are taking back that rich ex-husband of yours,” Michonne said. “He is handsome.”

“And indicted,” Cam added.

“Please, rich white guys always get off with a slap on the wrist,” Michonne said.

“Yes, they do,” Darcy said, feeling sour. She shook her head. “I’m not taking him back.”

“She said that very decisively,” Jen said.

“Uh-huh,” Cam said. He gave her a fleeting smile around his sandwich.

“Justin’s horrible,” Darcy said. “Superficially charming, but horrible.” She stressed the last word.

“I forbid you to get back together with him,” Jane said, looking away from Jack for a second. They were at the end of the table. “He’s the worst,” Jane added.

“Aye,” Thor said.

“She is so damn lucky,” Michonne whispered to Jen. “Both of them, so fine.”

“I heard that,” Jack said. 

“Doesn’t make it less true!” Jen said. Cam snorted. Jane nodded.

"True!" she called.

“Why’s nobody giving Darce a hard time about Rumlow?” Jack complained.

“What?” Michonne said. Her head turned towards Darcy. A row of faces stared at her.

“Jack!” Jane said. “You aren’t supposed to talk about them.”

“There’s a them?” Cam said.

“It’s really...casual,” Darcy lied. “We’re quietly dating.” They sort of were, weren’t they? What would Brock say if things got around at work? Would he be upset?

“Ooooh,” Michonne said.

“Sorry,” Jane mouthed at Darcy. 

“It’s fine,” Darcy lied.

“But that’s why you’re not taking your ex back,” Jen said. 

“It’s one reason,” Darcy said. "But it's casual."

"What day of the week are you?" Michonne asked.

"Michonne!" Jen said.

* * *

_“Baby, why don’t you call me,”_ Justin complained. _“You’re just gonna give up on what we have? We were magic together, baby. You can ask Jane, I gave up everything for you, all my insider info--”_

“Jesus,” Darcy muttered to herself. Justin really was relentless when he was unwanted. She pressed several buttons. She hoped Brock had called sometime in between Darcy going home to get her bags and arriving at Nat’s real apartment. He sometimes called between mission activities. 

“This message has been deleted,” Darcy’s voicemail said. She waited through another long beep to see if she had any more messages. “You have no more messages,” the robotic voice told her. She sighed and stuck her phone on the couch pillow. Darcy looked around the apartment’s living room. It was fancier than Darcy was used to. Nat had decorated in shades of warm wood, amber, and bronze. The light itself seemed more golden here. Darcy had been trying to figure out if the color scheme was why it felt cozier than the safe house. It probably looked great with Natasha’s red hair. Feeling all kinds of weird emotions, Darcy pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and curled up underneath it. She was so sleepy and Nat’s couch was so comfortable. She would just sleep and call Brock again later, she thought. She could call him herself. 

* * *

“Darcy,” a voice said, shaking her gently. Darcy’s eyelids opened. She was looking into Nat’s face. “Darcy.” She smiled.

“You’re back,” Darcy said, sitting up slowly. “I was so tired, I fell asleep on the couch. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Nat said, looking amused. “We just got back. Brock is looking for you.” She passed Darcy a smartphone. “He seems...upset?” Her grin was cat-like. "He wants to speak to you."

“Brock?” Darcy said, frowning. The corner of the phone said it was one in the morning.

“I’m coming to get you,” he said, voice blunt. “I’m pulling into Romanoff’s complex now. Meet me outside.” He hung up. Darcy passed the phone back to Nat.

“What’s going on?” she wondered aloud. She felt groggy from sleep.

“I believe he is upset about Justin,” Natasha told her. 

“Shit,” Darcy said. She got up and started gathering her things. “Thank you for letting me stay here,” she said, getting her bag and grabbing her travel mug off the kitchen counter. 

“You’re always welcome,” Nat said. “And if you need anything--like me to scare Justin?”

“No, that’s okay,” Darcy said. “I appreciate the offer, though. I’m trying to keep from doing that.” She sighed. Her phone buzzed. “He’s here,” she told Nat. “Just how upset is he?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s upset with you,” Nat said. 

Brock’s car was sitting in a parking space with the lights on. She waved at him and walked over. “Hi,” Darcy said, getting in the car. She wiggled to throw her bag in the backseat. “I wasn’t expecting you back,” she began, leaning over to kiss him. He looked at her, blinking slowly. 

“You could’ve stayed at my place,” Brock said, when she pulled back.

“Oh,” Darcy said. He was mad, she thought.

“I have security,” he added. “What are you doing, staying by yourself?”

“It’s crowded at my place,” Darcy said. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Oh,” he said.

“And Natasha has security. There’s a twelve-digit security passcode and a deadbolt,” she added. “I just wanted to get some rest. I fell asleep on her couch!”

“Yeah?” he said, expression lightening. “You don’t have to sleep on my couch.” That was when he leaned over and kissed her again. This time he was more affectionate. Darcy had her eyes closed and felt his fingers touch her face. When he pulled away, she chased his mouth, sucking on his top lip. 

“Mmm,” Darcy said, happy he was responding normally again. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” he said, blinking again. His expression was puzzled. He remained silent on the drive home. Darcy kept looking at him. She reached over and held his hand. He glanced at her, looked down, and rubbed her hand with his thumb. “Sorry, I’ve been working so much,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said, still holding on. He was the first one to let go. He looked at her as they arrived at his building and rubbed his jaw. 

“You can, uh, stay with me,” he said. “Until things quiet down. I brought stuff from your place.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She didn’t understand his abrupt shifts in mood, though. He looked somber as they rode the elevator. “Tired?” she said.

“Uh, no,” he told her. He grinned slightly. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“Natasha--she said you were upset,” Darcy said, then immediately regretted it when he made a face as they went into his apartment. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t expect to come home to you crashing on her couch and flowers from Justin at your place.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“C’mon, don’t try to pretend he’s not trying to get you back,” Brock groused. “Dozens of fucking red roses all over the place. You’re not home--”

“I was asleep on Natasha’s couch!” Darcy shot back. They bickered their way into the kitchen, mostly about Justin. Darcy, already irritated by her ex-husband and still tired, finally lost her temper. “If you have such a problem with Justin,” she said, “why the hell am I here? You’re being a complete ass about him, you know that? It’s like you’re trying to alienate me--”

“I’m trying to alienate you?” Brock said. He looked at her. “You keep holding me at a distance.”

“I--I do not,” Darcy said. 

“Yes, you do,” he repeated. He tilted his head and suddenly smiled at her.

“What?” Darcy asked.

“You’re provoking me,” he said slowly. He reached for her wrists, fingers circling them gently, and pulled her closer. “Do you know, the root meaning of the word provocative comes from provoke?” Brock said, smirking. He leaned in. “Do you want to provoke me?” he asked. “Because I can skip dinner. C’mere.” 

* * *

“Brock,” Darcy said. She was blindfolded and tied to his bed. He’d left her lying there, feeling turned on and irritated at the same time. She was naked. Obviously. 

“Yes, baby?” he said, from somewhere in the room. He sounded annoyingly calm. That set her off, too.

“Don’t baby me,” she shot back. He chuckled.

“I just realized what was happening,” Brock said, voice nearer. She jolted slightly when his mouth touched her upper thigh. “Mmm,” he said, fingers raking down towards her knee. “I think,” he said, “that you are so used to Justin Hammer’s bullshit, you keep holding me off. Are you a little bit scared? Maybe used to things going bad?”

“No,” Darcy said, trying for brazenness. She felt him kiss her stomach. Her entire body felt alive. 

“If you lie to me, I’m gonna have to punish you,” Brock said. He sounded amused. “Do you want to be punished?”

“No,” she said, feeling wildly curious.

“No?”

“Make me,” Darcy said, wondering what he would do next. She felt him move. The bed creaked. Darcy held her breath as Brock straddled her. Suddenly, she felt him untie one of her wrists. He massaged her hand, stroking down her forearm, kneading her muscles. She couldn’t help it; she made a noise.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, shifting off of her again. 

“Yes,” she admitted. He untied her other wrist. Darcy felt him lean down and shivered. He kissed the side of her face. “Oh,” she said.

“Roll over,” he said, chuckling. She was so excited, her heart was pounding. Still blindfolded, she felt him trace his fingers from the back of her neck down her body. “You want this?” he said, cupping her ass gently. 

“Yes,” Darcy whispered, swallowing. He drew his hand away. Brock chuckled. “What?” she said, feeling the word catch in her throat. She was wildly excited.

“You know,” he said in her ear, “this isn’t even my thing, but I’ll do it for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Darcy said, more boldly than she felt. He laughed. The first slap of his hand on her ass was thrilling. “Oh,” she said. He paused. “Don’t stop,” Darcy begged.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “So beautiful.”

* * *

“I cannot believe this is happening to me,” Darcy said slowly, as they sat in their seats. She looked at him. They’d dressed up for this. He looked really good in a suit, she thought. Brock glanced at her, expression wry.

“You give me lip,” he said, “you have to see the ballet with me.” He sounded smug. She glanced around. The theater was stunning. People were moving into their seats. She turned her head to study him.

“Why the ballet?” Darcy wondered.

“I like watching people do cool shit without anybody getting shot, sue me,” Brock told her. “It’s athletic.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I just figured you’d want to go to a fight.”

“I’ve got hidden depths,” he said. “You comfortable?” She’d shifted in her seat.

“I’m fine,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush. “No injuries.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Fighting’s beautiful, too. We could go to a fight, if you want?” He smirked.

“What?”

“I’m not the only person here with secrets,” Brock said. He leaned over and kissed her temple. “You look beautiful,” he added.

“Thank you,” she said, biting her lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So this chapter might be slightly inspired by that cartoon going around where one lover tells another, 'I'm punishing you,' and proceeds to heap their beloved with praise and compliments until they beg for a safe word. Unfortunately, tumblr ate the post and I can't find it! Somebody have this one?
> 
> ETA: Sneakypie found it! Thank you!


	12. Terminology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was walking towards the break room at SHIELD, yawning and sleepy with mid-afternoon slump, when a too-familiar voice called her name. “Oh no,” she whispered to herself, freezing. She took a deep breath. “Shit,” she whispered, turning.

“Baby,” Justin said. He was being led by two agents. “I’ve been trying to call you!” He waved his shackled hands. People looked at them. Darcy sighed and decided to bite the bullet.

“I thought my divorce filing was pretty clear,” she said.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” Justin said. “You’re still my wife. I don’t believe in divorce--”

“You’ve been married four times,” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips. “Four times, Justin.”

“C’mon, Darcy, baby,” he pleaded. “Come home.”

“I’m seeing somebody,” Darcy said. He tilted his head and sighed elaborately. Darcy knew it was all a put on, but she waited for his reply.

“This hurts me,” Justin said. “Deeply.” He pouted at her.

“Get over yourself,” Darcy said. She couldn’t help but snap. She was irritable and Brock had kept her up last night. All night, practically. As much as she liked it--really liked it in the moment--being sleep-deprived and sex-addled made her cranky during the day. “I’m certainly over you,” she said. 

“That’s just mean---Jimmy?” Justin said, eyes going wide. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”

“He works here, asshole,” the agent on Justin’s left said. She knew without looking that Brock was behind her. Darcy sighed. She turned and looked back at Brock. He was standing in the corridor and frowning. But he didn’t acknowledge her. He was looking straight at Justin. She raised her eyebrows. Brock glanced at her. It was subtle, but she saw it. Then he looked back at Justin.

“Shit,” Justin said. “You work here?”

“I’m a SHIELD agent,” Brock said.

“He didn’t kidnap you?” Justin said, looking stunned. He looked at Darcy. “You tricked me!” Justin yelled.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “Just divorce me already!” She turned on her heel and moved to leave both men standing in the corridor. But Brock stopped her, reaching from her arm.

“We’re still on for dinner, right?” Brock said, voice cool. Darcy rolled her eyes at this transparent attempt to make Justin jealous.

“I’m living with you,” she said quietly. “Temporarily.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Wait, he’s the guy? This is the guy? Mancuso?” Justin called out. 

“Yes,” Darcy called out without looking behind her. Justin groaned dramatically.

“We did business together!” he yelled at Brock. “You asshole, that’s my wife.”

“I’m not your--” Darcy began, half turning back to glare at Justin. She was startled when Brock pulled her in for a kiss. She would have pulled back, but he was intensely pressing his mouth to hers. She closed her eyes. “Ohhh,” Darcy sighed out. 

“C’mon, this is bullshit!” Justin said. “In front of me?” Brock kept kissing her. 

“Let’s go, Hammer,” one of the agents said.

“Darcy, baby,” Justin called out. “You wanna keep him, you can keep him, okay? Let’s talk about this--call me!”

Brock pulled away and Darcy forced herself to open her eyes. Brock was gazing down at her. He looked almost smug. Darcy felt a strange urge to yell at him. “I guess I’ll call him later, talk about a polyamorous thing,” she said sharply, trying to deflate his ego. 

“No,” Brock said, tilting his head. “We are not doing that.”

“We?” she said. 

“Yeah.”

* * *

After work, Darcy went with Jack, Thor, and Jane to take Elvis to the zoo. The zoologists were nice people, Darcy thought. Jack kept kissing the top of Elvis’s head and looking sad. She watched as Thor patted his shoulder.

“It will be all right, Jack--” Thor was saying, when Darcy smiled at one of the zoologists. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said to the woman. “For letting them visit.”

“He’s a beautiful tiger,” she said. She grinned. “And Jane Foster and Thor aren’t terrible for PR, either.”

“No,” Darcy said. Jane came over to them. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” the zoologist said. She moved over to speak to Thor. Jane looked at Darcy.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked quietly. “Jack said that Justin was in the office and saw Brock kissing you?”

“Who told Jack?” Darcy wondered.

“You didn’t tell me,” Jane said.

“I’m just”--Darcy sighed-- “annoyed with men right now.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“What’s that mean?” Darcy asked.

“You like Brock,” Jane said. “He’s gotten under your skin, Darce.” Darcy sighed. Jane gave her a look. “So, you don’t care about him?” Jane asked. Across the room, the tiger was rolling on the floor.

  
  


* * *

_ “Honeybun, if you wanna keep the SHIELD boytoy, that’s fine--”  _ Justin rambled, as Darcy listened to her voicemails in the bathroom.  _ “I can’t believe he’s not mafia. He looks mafia--”  _ She and Brock were in a very nice restaurant. Darcy sighed and hit delete. Her voicemail bonked. She’d yell at Justin later. She made a note to call the SHIELD attorneys and ask about the divorce proceedings tomorrow, then washed her hands. In the mirror, she looked tired. She felt exhausted.  
  


“You want some wine?” Brock said to her, when she returned to the table. Darcy looked at him.

“What are we doing?” she said. He grinned. 

“The preamble to me feeding you cake and taking your clothes off?” he offered. “You have to have dinner before dessert, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” Darcy said. She alternated between erotic happiness and irritability these days. Even Jane had complained about her mood swings. Jane! Of course, Jane was in domestic bliss with two men and a pet tiger, like a total b. Darcy was positively envious of how well the trio communicated. Brock was as cagey as the tiger, really. “Tell me what you actually want,” she said. He frowned at her.

“What’s bothering you?” Brock asked.

“I’m tired,” Darcy said. “I’m tired of Justin leaving me voicemails--”

“I can handle Hammer,” Brock said. “And we’ll get you a TRO if he keeps bothering you.”

“A what?” Darcy said.

“Restraining order,” Brock said calmly. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. She sipped her wine. “That still doesn’t help me with you, though.”

“You need help with me?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I just want you to tell me what we’re doing,” Darcy said. He looked at her for a long moment and didn’t speak. Then he raised a finger to flag down their waiter.

“Can we get the check and have everything boxed up?” he said. Brock looked at Darcy. “Which dessert do you want, sweetheart?” he asked.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat chocolate cake in your bed,” Darcy said, looking at Brock. He was working on his tablet, reading glasses on. They’d come home from the restaurant and had dinner in their pajamas on his couch. He’d talked about work. Even asked about the tiger drop off and made sympathetic noises when she described Jack’s goodbye to Elvis. Now he was risking crumbs in his very nice sheets.

“I’m very indulgent,” he said dryly. He stretched a little and his toes swayed under the blankets. “Just tell me when you’re ready to sleep,” he said, frowning at the screen. They weren’t even having sex? Darcy looked at him, puzzled. “You need sleep,” Brock said. “I’ve been wearing you out.” He smiled slightly.

“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled. She ate another forkful of cake. She’d never seen him in bleach-splattered sweatpants and that old ratty SHIELD t-shirt, Darcy realized. “How long have you had that shirt?” she asked, feeling weirdly curious.

“First year at SHIELD,” Brock said. “You were probably doing a chemistry class.”

“I took oceanography,” Darcy admitted. He grinned and looked around. 

“I had a pen in this damn bed,” he said, lifting his notebook and looking underneath it.

“Behind your ear,” Darcy said.

“Hmm,” he said. Brock retrieved the pen and looked at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, licking her fork. “You’re welcome.” He swiped something onscreen and made a note on paper. She channel surfed.

“What’s your availability in November?” Brock asked.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“You wanna take a little break with me?” Brock said. “Your divorce should be all squared away by then, we can celebrate.”

“Since when?” Darcy said.

“I ran into Reynolds in legal,” Brock said, “he says you’re on track for a finalized decree in late October.”

“You asked about my divorce? What did he say?” Darcy said, even more startled. 

“He owes me a favor, he was one of the  _ Lemurian Star  _ hostages,” Brock said. “Everything’s going well.” He smirked. “It’s totally unethical, but once you save a guy’s life from some French terrorists, he tells you things about your girlfriend’s pending divorce.” Darcy looked at Brock in surprise. 

“I’m your girlfriend?” she said, then cringed slightly at how juvenile she sounded. Her expression must’ve made him chuckle. He looked down his glasses at her. 

“Sweetheart, do you think I just go to the ballet with anybody?” Brock said. 

“Shit,” Darcy muttered, stabbing her cake. She’d given herself away as emotionally invested. Again. 

“Uh-huh,” he said. He was annoyingly calm. She felt the need to jab at him, for reasons she didn’t understand.

“Are you going to go running out of here now that we’ve actually said  _ girlfriend?” _ she said archly. 

“Nope,” he said. “But I said it first, I want that noted.”

“Okay,” she said.


	13. Autopilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I don’t know why we’re here,” Darcy said, glaring at Justin across the mediator’s table. “I don’t want his money or his property or any interest in his shady businesses.” She was in a SHIELD conference room they were using as a de facto mediation room. This was their third meeting and Darcy was out of patience.

“Alleged shady businesses,” Justin said, pointing at her. His restraints clanked and the SHIELD agents supervising him sighed and looked at each other. He’d spent his time in SHIELD’s detention center hiring divorce attorneys to combat her SHIELD-funded ones. It was making Darcy a real proponent of divorce reform.

“We’re here because Mr. Hammer would like you to take a more substantial settlement, Ms. Lewis,” Justin’s lead attorney said. This, Darcy knew, was some form of bribery. “And possibly delay your finalization for just a little while longer,” the attorney added. Darcy’s jaw dropped. That was what Justin really wanted? _Of all the ridiculous, absurd attempts..._

“Jesus,” one of the SHIELD agents muttered. Even they looked stunned.

“Nope,” Darcy said, crossing her arms. “I decline.”

“Honeybun,” Justin said. “Mediate with me?”

“No,” Darcy said. “I will not fucking mediate, I will not debate, and I will be filing a restraining order, got it? Sign the papers, Justin.”

“No,” Justin said, blinking and pretending to struggle against tears. He stuck his lip out. “Why you gotta leave me?” he whined.

“I’ll file that TRO,” Darcy’s attorney said, the corners of his mouth turning up. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, standing up. 

“More importantly,” her attorney said, clearly enjoying himself, “I can make an emergency filing with a judge, describing how my client wants nothing from your client and asking for an emergency order to circumvent a lengthy and unnecessary divorce trial. Judges are busy. They don’t like when spouses use the legal system as an instrument of harassment.” His voice was dry.

“Yes,” Darcy said, internally cheering SHIELD's legal team. “Do that.” 

“Let’s not be abrupt,” the thousand-dollar an hour mediator at the head of the table said. “Maybe we can come to an agreement with time.” It was all Darcy could do not to scoff out loud.

“Billing time?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow at him. He had the decency to look cornered. She smiled venomously. She was the sole woman in the room. Along with a legal reformer, she was contemplating becoming a raging 1970s feminist who spit out the word _male_ and set bras on fire. Or worse. She tilted her head. “Whatever everyone’s plan is, I don’t care. I want a finalized, _uncontested_ divorce,” she said. Uncontested divorces in DC were only supposed to take a few weeks. Unfortunately, Justin was contesting everything and they’d been asked by a judge to attend mediation. He could drag this on forever, Darcy was realizing. He was actually dragging this on forever. She would be eighty and still sitting in this room, utterly miserable. 

“Baby,” Justin whined. He’d actually claimed she didn’t have his assets delineated correctly in her initial filing as grounds for these dumb meetings. As if discovery mattered when you didn’t want anything! Justin leaned forward and pouted at her. “Won’t you reconsider?” he said.

“No. And I need to get back to work,” Darcy said. 

“I’ll file everything,” her attorney said smoothly, as Justin began to verbally protest. The agents with him stood up and glanced at each other.

“Tell Rumlow I said hello,” one of them said to Darcy, grinning slyly at his partner.

“I will,” Darcy said, shutting the door. She was trying not to be upset. She and Brock were going to have to postpone their celebratory vacation, Darcy realized. There was nothing to celebrate yet. 

She got on the elevator to go back to the lab. Darcy was getting out her phone to call him with the bad news when someone said her name. 

“Darcy! I was just coming up to see you,” Sharon said, hurrying over and holding the elevators doors open. 

“Hi, Sharon,” Darcy said, trying to smile despite her bad mood.

“STRIKE Alpha got called on a mission, Brock wanted me to tell you he won’t make lunch,” Sharon said, standing on the metal threshold.

“Oh,” Darcy said, disappointed.

“Sorry,” Sharon said. “I know you’re having a hard time.”

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted. Everyone must know. Damn Justin, she thought. 

“But they’ll be back soon,” Sharon said. She stepped back, allowing the doors to start to shut, “probably soon!” she called. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said. The doors shut as she waved. Her arm went down and she tried to hold it together until she got to the lab. 

Jane looked up when she opened the lab door. “How did it go--oh, Darcy!” she said, as Darcy burst into tears and walked into Jane's awkward hug.

“I fucking hate Justin Hammer,” Darcy seethed, tears running down her face. “I hate him. And I’m losing my vacation and Brock is gone and I know that because Sharon told me and I’m still jealous of her even though it is _stupid,”_ she babbled. “Today sucks.”

“I’ll close the lab,” Jane said. “You can stay with us.”

  
  


* * *

“Should you like to hold little Elvis?” Thor asked her as they sat on the couch watching _Dateline._ Darcy looked at him quizzically, ending a train of thought about the feasibility of actually murdering Justin herself. They’d already had ice cream and potato chips, so all that was left was husband homicide.

“Little Elvis?” she asked, confused. The tiger was in his ecologically-appropriate habitat. 

“You’ll love him,” Jane said. She was sitting on Thor’s other side. Jack was making homemade pizzas in the kitchen. He liked to cook, Jane had mentioned. Now the scientist stood and left the room. Darcy waited, smiling back at Thor’s cheerful, encouraging expression. What was it, she wondered? Jane returned with a tiger-striped item in her arms.

"Oh my God." Darcy could feel herself grinning back at Jane. “This is little Elvis?” she asked.

“Yup,” Jane said.

“Jane obtained the idea from you,” Thor said cheerfully. “He is a Squishmallow, like your Unicorn.” Darcy had a rainbow-colored unicorn made of the marshmallow-soft material. She loved plushes.

“This is great,” Darcy said, smiling. “Great.”

“Here,” Jane said, passing her the squishy tiger. Darcy hugged it.

“He is nice,” Darcy said, sighing. "I mean, he's no unicorn, but he's great."

“He’s a bloody good snuggle pillow!” Jack called from the other room. Jane and Darcy grinned at each other. 

“Thank you, Jack!” Darcy yelled. Thor reached over and patted the Squishmallow.

“No worries, love!” Jack said back. Jane was looking at the TV and frowned.

“What is it?” Darcy asked.

“If we watch enough of these, maybe we can figure out a plan for Justin,” she said. “This is about poisoning, right?” Darcy nodded.

“We cannot vanquish him in combat?” Thor said.

“Too much chance of being arrested,” Jane said. 

“That’s what I thought,” Darcy said.

“Great minds,” Jane said quietly, eyes narrowed. 

“I think you should leave the murderin’ to Romanoff,” Jack said, emerging from the kitchen with a round pan. The pizza on it looked delicious, Darcy thought. 

“Boooo,” Jane said. 

“She gets all the fun,” Darcy said, taking a slice when Jack asked if she wanted one.

  
  


* * *

Darcy was asleep in her old bed when she heard noises coming from the hallway and the door opened. “Brock?” she said. It had sounded like him talking to Jack. She got her glasses off the nightstand and turned on the light.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Brock said. He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. “Jack called and told me you were having a shitty fucking day.”

“Justin,” Darcy grumbled, leaning against Brock’s shoulder and closing her eyes. “We’re going to have to postpone our trip,” she said, trying to stay calm. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Darcy inhaled slowly. His shirt smelled like him--all the parts that made up his particular scent. Cologne and sweat and the natural smell of his skin. She pressed her nose against the cotton fabric of his shirt and he stroked the back of her head gently. 

“Mmm,” Darcy whispered. This must be what real chemistry was like, she thought. Feeling drawn to someone like this. She even liked the smell of his hair when it was slightly dirty. 

“Move over,” he said, before he reached down and untied his work boots. He must’ve come directly over, Darcy realized, as he took his boots off. He was still in his tactical pants and shirt. She moved further in to give him room, then helped him with his shirt. They fumbled out of their clothes, kissing each other. “This is, uh, cozy,” he said dryly. He was practically on top of her already.

“My bed’s smaller than yours,” Darcy said. It did feel strangely more intimate to sleep with him in her bed. Her room was so much more personal. She didn’t think he’d seen the twinkle lights threaded through her headboard or her scarf collection. They were always at his place.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at her and sliding down her underwear. She could only hold eye contact for a moment before she got nervous; she busied herself kissing his neck and jaw. She felt Brock smile against her mouth. 

“What?” Darcy said.

“Who’s this guy?” he said, gesturing to the Squishmallow next to her pillow. 

“His name is Little Elvis and Jack loaned him to me so I could cheer up,” Darcy said.

“He’s Jack’s pillow?” Brock asked, smirking.

“Yup,” she said. 

“I won’t cause him PTSD,” Brock joked, turning the Squishmallow towards the wall and setting him on the floor. Darcy laughed---then moaned. He’d snuck his hand between their bodies. 

“Oh my God,” she said, as he kissed her again. “Uhhh. Why do you do this to me?” she asked.

“No idea,” he said dryly. They looked at each other for a long moment before he kissed her and then broke away again. He seemed to study her. “Sorry I wasn’t there today,” he said quietly. 

“S’okay,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his dick. She was surprised he’d apologized; it wasn’t like it was his fault. “I forgive you for having an important job,” Darcy said jokingly, moving her hand up and down. He groaned. He was hard in her hand when she crawled down the bed. 

“You sure you wanna?” Brock asked, expression serious.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, glancing up at him with a grin. 

“Hold on. Almost forgot,” he said. She let her gaze follow his movement as he got a condom and she helped him put in on.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, kissing his stomach. She took him in her mouth slowly, holding the base of his shaft in her hand. 

“Uhhh, yes,” he groaned. “Fuck, that’s so good, baby. She felt his hips twitch slightly and pushed herself a little farther. She had to go carefully so she wouldn’t automatically gag. It took her a moment to relax and then pull back a fraction. But it was easier the next time. She could feel the tension grow in his body as she moved back and forth. “Fuck,” he hissed, as she used her tongue in a way he liked.

“Hmm?” Darcy said, after she let him go. “You okay?” She knew he was fine, more than fine, but it was fun to pretend. He was probably dying of arousal, she thought. He gave her a dark look.

“Get on your belly,” he said. “I can’t take this kind of emotional manipulation after twelve hours in the field.”

“Emotional manipulation?” she said.

“You’re being too fucking nice,” he muttered.

“Oh. Okay,” Darcy said, grinning. She rolled over obligingly and let him move between her legs.

“Pillow?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, lifting her hips so he could slide one underneath her. She closed her eyes as he pushed into her. Brock was oddly tender and careful with her. Less aggressive--even less vocal--than usual. She wondered if he’d been told how upset she was, but Darcy didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and tried to feel all of him: the way he felt between her legs, the warmth of his hands, even the way his thighs slotted against hers. She could relax if she focused on him. He seemed to be rolling his hips with deliberate, agonizing slowness. Like it he wanted to draw it out. “Oh God,” she said, repeating it to herself. “More,” she begged. “More.”

“Shhh,” Brock said teasingly. “Don’t wake the threesome, I wanna take my time.” 

“They wake me enough!” she grumbled and he snickered in her ear. 

“All right,” he muttered, “impatient.”

He put so much force into his thrusts that she couldn’t really laugh anymore. But she stopped worrying about making too much noise. 

* * *

Darcy woke up alone. Not exactly alone. Little Elvis was next to her. She grinned and got out of bed, putting on her robe. Brock had probably left for work already; it was after eight. She could hear voices from the kitchen. “Jane?” she said, opening her bedroom door and stepping out. To her surprise, Brock was standing in the kitchen with Jack and turned to look at her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. He didn’t look hurried.

“You’re not going into work?” she asked.

“Nope,” Jack said. “But I am. See ya, mate.” He gave Darcy a knowing grin and left them standing there.

“You’ll want to take a shower before we leave,” Brock said. “I’ll pack a bag for you.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“I took a few days off,” he said. “I’m getting you out of town. Jane’s okayed you being gone.”

“Seriously?” Darcy said, feeling delighted.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Flight leaves in two hours.”

“We’re getting on a plane?” Darcy asked. He smirked. 

“Yeah, I’m putting some space between you and your shitty ex-husband,” Brock said dryly. “Go get in the shower.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Darcy said, thrilled to be getting away from the mess her life was in. But they didn’t go where she expected; instead, he drove her to a little airport in Manassas. She realized it was all small private planes. “You own a plane?” Darcy asked, as they walked towards a Cessna. He was carrying their bags. Brock grinned at her behind his aviators.

“I’m the boss of a guy who owns a plane,” he said. 

“Ah,” she said, sipping her coffee. He’d taken her to get coffee on the way, too.

“But I will be your pilot today,” he said smoothly.

“Oh my God, you did the in-flight announcement voice,” Darcy said, grinning. “You’re a pilot?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” Brock said. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, as they reached the plane. He tossed in the bags and then frowned at her.

“I can’t surprise you?” he grumbled.

“Okay, surprise me,” Darcy said. “Also, I think I’m gonna need your help climbing onto the plane. I had no idea little planes were this far off the ground.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, boosting her up into the passenger side. This was going to be so fun, Darcy thought. “Buckle up, sweetheart,” Brock whispered into her ear. When he got in, she looked at him. “What?” he said. 

“You are just too freaking cool,” she said, sighing.

“I know,” he said, turning switches and knobs. Minutes later, they had been cleared to taxi to the runaway. “You ready?” Brock said, grinning. She nodded. The plane seemed to rattle slightly as they lifted off into the air. She had to hold in a little whoop of relief. She smiled at Brock. “Fun, right?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. Darcy looked around, amazed. The sky was beautifully blue. “What direction is this?” she asked. He snorted. “What?” Darcy said. “I’m not good at directions.”

“South, sweetheart,” Brock said.

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said. “That makes sense.” It was funny to be completely alone with him, like this. No television. No food. No sex. Nothing to distract them but the clouds. “When did you decide you wanted to fly planes?” she asked, wanting a safer subject than Justin Hammer.

“A while ago,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Relentless self-promoter.”

“I thought it would be useful for work and a fun way to spend a lot of money,” Brock said, responding to her jibe with a grin. “You’ve got your phone, right? Play me some music?” he asked.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She started with Iron & Wine and segued through one of her softer playlists. Jeff Buckley was singing “Lover, You Should Have Come Over” when she caught him looking over. “You don’t like it?” she asked.

“I was just thinking about how good it is that we can do this. We don’t have to talk,” Brock said.

“Really?” Darcy said.

“It’s fucking relaxing, being with you,” he said. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said skeptically. “Because I don’t make you talk?”

“It’s underrated,” he said dryly. He leaned over and flicked a switch on the console. Darcy tapped her phone screen and filled the cabin with the sound of Vance Joy’s “I’m With You.” She was listening to the song when he took her hand.

“Who’s flying the plane?” Darcy said.

“Autopilot,” he said.

* * *

They landed at an airport in Georgia. “Do I get to know where we’re going yet?” Darcy asked, as they got a rental car. She was looking around curiously.

“One of the islands,” he said, picking up her bag. “Sea Island.”

“Ooooooh,” Darcy said. The airport was named for the Golden Isles; everyone seemed very gung-ho about the whole Georgia island experience. 

“The beach is private and there’s a spa,” he said, “so you’ll just have to put up with all the golf Republicans.”

“I knew there was a flaw somewhere,” Darcy said. They drove to a resort called The Cloisters. “Holy shit,” Darcy said, stunned, when she saw where they were staying. For some reason, she’d been envisioning little beach houses. She hadn’t been expecting something this fancy; it was a palatial Spanish style resort. Brock laughed. “What?” Darcy said.

“It’s nice that being Mrs. Hammer hasn’t made you jaded and materialistic,” he said.

“Don’t remind me,” she said, sighing.

“I booked us a Balinese massage before dinner,” Brock said, as they walked through the lobby to check in. “We’re just gonna relax for the next three days.”

“You always know the right thing to say,” Darcy told him. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Can a judge grant you a divorce if you're asking for nothing and your spouse is contesting things just to drag it out? I have no idea, but I freaking hope so.
> 
> The Cloisters on Sea Island looks amazing and I cannot decide if I want to do a whole chapter of Darcy getting massages, eating really good food, and having more sex before she has to go deal with Justin: https://www.goldenisles.com/listing/the-cloister-at-sea-island/95/


	14. Not That Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said, sighing. A masseuse was rubbing her back. On the table next to her, Brock reached for her hand. Darcy opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You’re fantastic,” she said. “You _and_ Marsha. I appreciate you, Marsha.” That was Darcy’s masseuse. Marsha laughed. 

“Thank you,” the masseuse said. They were lying on adjoining tables in a spa room that smelled of ylang-ylang, sandalwood, and rose.

“This is great,” Darcy told Brock. “I don’t want to leave. What if we just change our names and live in Georgia?” He smirked at her. 

“Foster would want you back,” he said. His thumb stroked her hand gently. “You wanna have dinner in the room again?” he asked, as Marsha rubbed Darcy’s calves and his masseuse worked on his lower back. They’d tried one of the resort’s restaurants once, but quickly decided that room service was more private and relaxing. And they didn’t have to go far when they wanted to go to bed.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, unable to keep the warmth out of her voice. “I might’ve stopped by a place that sells lingerie while you went to the gym this morning.”

“Yeah?” Brock said. “I thought you were asleep?”

“Fooled you,” Darcy said. She’d snuck out. Brock laughed, but Darcy saw the gleam in his eye.

“Do you hear what’s she’s doing to me, Marsha?” Brock joked. It was a great vacation, Darcy thought. She didn’t want it to end. Her real life seemed dull and boring by comparison. And they were in a good groove: long walks on the beach, shared eyerolls at the stuffy golfers, massages, long nights in a very nice hotel room. 

“You two behave,” Marsha said. “This isn’t even your honeymoon!” People kept assuming it was and Darcy had jumped in to correct them; she didn’t want Brock to freak out.

“No,” Darcy said, a little sadly. She looked at Brock. “I wish I was divorced.” She couldn’t keep the longing out of her voice.

“What?” Brock’s masseuse said, clearly startled. Brock raised an eyebrow at Darcy.

“You want to talk about that?” he asked Darcy.

“Not really. Sorry, that was stupid of me,” Darcy said, looking at the startled masseuse. Her name was Tricia. “I thought I was divorced awhile ago, but it turns out it was never finalized and my ex is dragging things out now.”

“Oh,” Tricia said.

“He’s an asshole,” Brock said. He squeezed Darcy’s hand. “Don’t worry about Justin Hammer.”

“Your ex is _Justin Hammer?”_ Marsha said.

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed out, wishing she’d never brought it up. “He’s an asshole.”

“But he’s in jail. It was on the Today show,” Marsha said.

“What?” Brock said.

“He was on the news this morning,” Marsha explained. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, looking at Brock. That didn’t make sense; SHIELD had him detained already. What had happened? “I haven’t checked my phone,” Darcy said. They’d decided to let him carry one phone for emergencies and hadn’t watched television since they got to the Cloisters, just to give Darcy a break.

“We’ll check on it once the massage is over,” Brock said, voice calm. He didn’t seem worried.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She tried to get back to her previous, not Justin obsessed headspace and relax. “Thanks, Marsha,” Darcy said, as the masseuse put some pressure on her shoulders. Darcy made eye contact with Brock again. He held her hand gently across the space between their tables.

  
  


* * *

“It’ll be fine,” Brock said, letting her into their hotel room. They were on the ground floor with a view of a garden courtyard. It was very romantic at night. “I’ll get your phone out of the box,” he said. He’d stowed her phone away with his gun, inside a lockbox.

“Thanks, babe,” Darcy said, sitting on the bed. She made herself look out of the glass door, take a breath, remember everything she’d ever read about staying in the present. “It’s so gorgeous here,” she said.

“We’ll go for a walk on the beach before dinner, get your mind off things,” Brock said. He had his back to her.

“You don’t want to fool around instead?” Darcy asked, aiming for a teasing tone. “Am I getting too vanilla or something?” He’d been all over her after their last massage.

“Whatever you’re in the mood for sweetheart,” he said, retrieving her phone. He brought it to her. Darcy took it out of his hand and held down the button to power it on.

“I--thank you,” Darcy said, catching his wrist with her free hand. “Just, thank you.” She sighed. “This trip has been so good for me.” Darcy met Brock’s eyes. He was looking down at her with a cryptic expression. “Shit, I made it all mushy, didn’t I?” she said. “Whoops.” She looked down again. “I hope I don’t have to go back to something awful in DC--oh God,” she stuttered. Her phone was going crazy. Texts, emails, voicemail notifications. “It sounds like a slot machine!” Darcy said, horrified. She listened to her voicemails first. She narrated a few of them aloud. “Justin’s done some sort of plea deal,” Darcy began, “because of his SHIELD cooperation. And then he violated the terms of the deal--”

“No fucking surprise there,” Brock said, as Darcy hit delete and listened to the next message.

“And they’ve put him in jail,” Darcy said. 

“Good,” Brock said. When she hit the number for delete another time, it bonked. Darcy put the phone to her ear again. “What else could he possibly fucking do?” Brock muttered. On the phone, Darcy was listening to a message from her lead attorney. 

_“--signed the papers today, so I’ll need you to sign them, too,”_ he was saying, as the phone dinged with more texts and emails. 

“Shit!” she said.

“What is it?” Brock said. 

“I think Justin signed the papers, I’m going to listen to this again---fuck!” she said. Darcy had tried to replay the voicemail; in her agitation, she accidentally deleted the message instead of replaying it.

“What?” he said. 

“I deleted the fricking message!” she seethed.

“We’ll call him, sweetheart, calm down,” Brock said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy said, trying to call the attorney back. “Oh God, Brock, I hope he signed those damn papers.” Her attorney answered on the second ring.

“Darcy, did you get my message?” he asked.

“Did he sign them?” Darcy almost yelled.

“Yeah,” her attorney replied.

“Oh thank fucking God,” she said, reaching for Brock automatically. He held her free hand with both of his.

“But I’m gonna need you to find a fax machine,” the attorney said.

“A fax machine,” Darcy repeated. “Okay. Find a fax machine.” Brock had let go of her. Darcy looked at him, startled, then realized he was calling down to the concierge desk.

“Do you have a fax machine on site?” she heard him say.

  
  


“I can’t believe I’m sitting here, waiting on nineteen-eighties technology,” Darcy confessed, as they lingered near the hotel office with the one remaining fax machine. She was so nervy, her arm jiggled. She met Brock’s eyes. “I’m going to be divorced,” she said. “You don’t think this is too easy, do you?”

“Too easy?” he said.

“I’m paranoid, I thought this day wouldn’t happen,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Maybe a little paranoid.” He gave her a cryptic look. “I’ll be right back, you just sign the papers,” he told her. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, confused, as he walked down the hall. He’d put his phone to his ear before he disappeared from her sightline. “Weird,” she said. In the adjoining office, the fax machine rattled to life. Darcy’s heart lept into her throat. The smell of hot ink and copier paper was the most wonderful thing in the world, she thought, as she waited for all the pages to come through. The sheets dropped into the tray with rhythmic noises as she hovered, pen in hand. Her hands were shaking so badly, she had to sit to sign everything. Darcy was double-checking the signature lines when Brock reappeared.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “But help me. I don’t know if I can remember how to send a fax, I’m so freaking nervous and thrilled.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “We’ll, uh, copy these, sweetheart, before we send them back.”

“Good,” Darcy said. “Good idea.” He pried the papers out of her hands gently, smiling. “Oh God,” Darcy said, when she realized what she’d done. She’d been hanging onto them. 

“Let’s go for a walk after this, huh?” he suggested.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She would have preferred going straight back to the room and having a tiny freakout, but he was weirdly insistent about it.

“I think you’ll feel better if you get some fresh air,” Brock said.

It _was_ nice to take her shoes off and sink her toes into the wet sand, Darcy realized. She took a deep breath of salty air and looked at Brock. “You were right, this is great,” she said.

“Yeah,” he told her, grinning.

“How’d you know?” she asked. “Are you a divorced woman whisperer or something?” It felt thrilling to say.

“I might have something planned for the room,” Brock said, smirking. “Divorced woman.” He said it lightly, but he looked relieved, too.

“I’m divorced!” Darcy yelled, jumping up and down and almost falling. Brock caught her.

“Be careful,” he chided sweetly.

“But I’m so happy!” she said, laughing. “Who wants to be careful when you’re this happy?”

“Nobody,” he said. His phone beeped and he checked it, keeping one arm around her. “That’s room service,” Brock said. “Let’s head in, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, stopping to put her shoes on. They hurried back to the room to meet the room service guy. “You got champagne,” she said dreamily, when she saw the surprises. There was a bucket of ice and a frosty bottle in the center of their little dining table. The table was arrayed with food. 

“We’re celebrating,” Brock said. “Sit down and relax, sweetheart.”

“We are!” Darcy said. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“It’s real,” he said. Darcy was smiling into her champagne glass when he cleared his throat. Darcy looked up.

“What is it?” she asked. He looked thoughtful. 

“I was, uh, gonna ask on this trip--your apartment has lots of people in it,” Brock said. “Foster. Thor, Rollins. Whatever animal Jack drags home next.”

“He’s going to do that, huh?” Darcy asked.

“The man loves animals,” Brock said, “but, uh.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said, when he paused. 

“Do you wanna live with me?” he asked. “When we get back?”

“Really?” Darcy said, delighted. “That’s a big step. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “I’m sure.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said.

“Are you gonna say yes?” he said.

“Yes,” Darcy said, beaming. “I’m divorced and I’m saying yes to living with you.” She looked at him. “Ahhh!” she said. 

“Happy?” Brock said, voice wry.

“Wildly,” she said. “You’re totally getting some tonight, you know that, right?”

“Sure,” he said, voice deceptively mild.

“But what about”---Darcy paused--- “your complicated love life?” Brock raised his fork towards his chest.

“My complicated love life?” Brock said, eyebrows going up.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, nodding.

“This morning, _you_ were still married,” he said. He speared some asparagus. “I’m not that complicated,” he muttered.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Sure. I’m the complex one. You aren’t an advanced woman juggler or anything. I’m not going to cramp your style. Nope.”

“Look,” Brock said. “As hard as it was to run off Hammer, you ought to know that I don’t want anybody else.” Darcy beamed at him and his frustrated expression fell away. “I want--we’re a couple, all right?” he said. “And I want you to live with me.”

“Wonderful,” Darcy said.

“Took long enough to run your husband off,” Brock said, half to himself. “Just got lucky.”

“Thank goodness for man-eating attorneys,” Darcy said. “Ohhh, are those crab cakes?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. He smiled and pushed the plate towards her.

  
  


* * *

_72 hours earlier…._

“Nicole?” Justin Hammer said, peering through the wired glass in the prison visiting room. “Tony Stark’s Nicole?” he asked, scrunching his nose.

“Mr. Hammer,” Natasha Romanoff said. “I’m here to convey a message to you.”

“From Tony?” he said.

“From your wife’s current boyfriend,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. The fake mobster. Romano or whatever his name is,” he said.

“Commander Rumlow,” she supplied.

“Sure, sure. What does he want? I’m not signing the papers. She’s my wife and we’re going to work through our problems...you know, let no man tear asunder,” Justin rambled, “or whatever it says in the Bible.”

“Mr. Hammer, you need to sign those divorce papers,” she said, voice smooth. “Please don’t argue.”

“C’mon, Nicole,” Justin said. “I’m in love. I love my wife! She’s still so cute and hot and it kinda drives me crazy. If I give her a few months to get him out of her system...or, you know, we can stay married and she can have him on Thursdays or whatever. I want Saturdays, though. I need somebody with me for galas and stuff.”

“Once you’re out of maximum security?” Natasha said.

“It’s gotta be sooner or later. Money talks,” he said. “We both know this.” Natasha tilted her head and studied him.

“Money talks?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know,” he said. “I’m not saying I’m bribing anyone, but judges love me.”

“How long does that usually take?” Natasha asked.

“A few months,” he said. “A little slap on the wrist looks good in _Page Six.”_

“Uh-huh,” Natasha said. “Here’s the thing, Justin. Your ex-wife’s new boyfriend has done enough undercover work to have plenty of interesting acquaintances.”

“Interesting acquaintances?” Justin asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding more pleased. “I want you to look about three rows down. That lovely tattooed gentleman is named Anatoli Volok. Just transferred into the facility this morning.”

“That’s a nice Russian name,” Justin said, shifting slightly.

“But you’ve got more than Rumlow in common. Mr. Volok happens to be a good friend of your old friend, Ivan Vanko,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. Ivan. My old buddy Ivan,” Justin said, looking more nervous.

“You left things on bad terms,” Natasha said. “I wonder if Anatoli knows?” Her voice was mild. “I could always speak to him, come back next week--”

“Give me the damn papers,” Justin said suddenly.

“A change of heart?” she asked, sliding the divorce papers through a slot, once a guard had given her permission. 

“No one cares about my feelings,” Justin muttered, signing bitterly.

“I’m afraid not,” Natasha said.

  
  
  
  


-The End-

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos on this one!


End file.
